A Cinderella Story
by MoMoShag
Summary: What if Hogwarts was home to a king and queen in the sixteenth century? This is the story of a noble prince, a beautiful maiden, and one not-so-orthodox fairy godmother. Rewritten for a good friend.
1. Chapter One: Once Upon a Time

**Author's note:** Recently, a good friend of mine came across some old stories I'd written when I was about 16, much to my embarrassment. When she read the version of Ginny as Cinderella I'd posted to a Harry/Ginny fanfiction archive, she begged me to do a re-write. I figured I could share it again, albeit a little more polished than before. I hope you enjoy!

 **A Cinderella Story**

* * *

"Hold still, child!" the servant Minerva cried, firmly placing Ginevra Weasley back in her seat. "We must make sure your presentable for your father and his new wife!"

The Weasley home was bustling with activity, the servants baking, cooking and cleaning in a flurry to get ready for their master's return. A widower, he had left the home for France in search of a wealthy new wife to save the estate. The chateau was a nice, modest home for Arthur Weasley, his two children, and their servants, but they had never entertained anyone of noble blood. Needless to say, the servants were determined to work hard for their kind master, leaving no stone unturned, no candlestick left unpolished.

"I cannot wait until father is home," Ginevra sighed, fidgeting with the lace of her brand new lavender colored dress. "But must I wear this? I feel like I can barely move."

"Only for a while, my love," Minerva answered as she braided her little mistresses hair. "This new mother of yours is a baroness, and a very cleanly one at that. She must meet the angels that you and your brother can be before your covered in mud and muck again."

Suddenly, a quaffle ball came flying into her open window, followed by her brother Ronald's laughing face. Minerva gave him a stern look while she tossed the ball back out. "You must be careful on that broom, sire!"

"Ron!" Ginevra said sternly, stalking to the window. "Don't you remember what today is? I _told_ you."

"Ginny, is that you?" he laughed, hovering closer on his broom. "You look like a _girl_!"

"I am a girl, you pest!" Ginevra said as her eyes narrowed. "Boy or girl, I'll always be able to put you in your place. Do not test me, Ronald."

"That's only if you can catch me," he laughed, turning about and racing off.

Before Ginevra knew it she was grasping her own broom beside the wardrobe, zooming out of the window in hot pursuit.

"Ginevra!" Minerva cried. "Come back here!"

She quickly caught up with her brother, wriggling the quaffle away, intent on heading back to the house to finish getting ready and end the game when her broom began to drag. Her head whipped back to see her brother holding onto it's tail, laughing uproarsingly as he let go of his own broom and climbed on. Ginevra held the quaffle steadfast as she tried to maneuver him off of the broom. Next thing they knew, their antics sent them into a tailspin, sending them both flying into the pig pen near the barns, covering them both in mud and manure.

"Ron, look what you've done!" she cried, grasping his head to shove into the mud. "I don't know any cleaning spells yet! After all that work Minerva did! We must get back to the house!"

But the sound of many excited voices filled the air. A large carriage and several wagons laden with furniture, at least a dozen trunks, rolled up tapestries, and fine rugs were making their way up the pathway to the house.

With one more forceful shove at her brother as he tried to get up, Ginevra unstuck herself from the mud, pushing her way through the pigs and running towards the house. Minerva stared her down sternly from the lineup of servants as she drew up to the them. Their father exited the carriage, laughing at the current state of his children.

"Is that my Ginny?" he asked, disregarding the dirt and filth as he drew her into a warm hug. "I should assume your brother is not far behind, with a mouthful of mud, no doubt."

Just then Ron appeared at their side, covered in twice the amount of mud than his sister. He smiled sheepishly as their father patted his head. "I wanted to introduce cleanly, fair-mannered children to my new wife. I supposed you two will have to do."

"What is that _awful_ smell?" a lovely voice said within the carriage.

The curtain drew back, revealing a thin, elegant woman, wearing the finest crushed black velvet robes over an ivory silk dress. Inky black hair fell in waves about her shoulders, her sharp nose turned up as she looked upon her new stepchildren, lip twitching in annoyance.

"Ginevra, Ronald, meet your new stepmother, Baroness Aurora Sinistra," father said, taking both of her hands into his own. "And she has two daughters!" he added excitedly as two girls, looking just as displeased as their mother, ambled out of the carriage. The first was tall and thin like her mother, but her face was hard set. The flat shape of her nose reminded Ginny of a dog she had once seen. The other girl was much larger, very tall and box shaped. She had an intimidating air about her behind a curtain of black, curly hair.

"This is Pansy," father said, placing his hand on the thin girls shoulder, "and Millicent."

The girls curtsied meekly. "Bonjour," they murmured in unison.

Ginevra caught the eye of her brother, who looked unsure at best. But their father beamed at his new wife as he ushered her into her new home.

"I guess we must endure," Ronald whispered as he followed his little sister.

Later in the evening, after a second bathing for the two children and supper for the new family, Ronald and Ginevra sat with their father in the parlor, a roaring fire illuminating their happy faces. Ginevra had climbed into her father's lap while Ronald made himself comfortable on an overstuffed ottoman, leaning forward eagerly as he listened to the stories of France with rapt attention.

"The muggles that reside in France are so interesting!" father was saying excitedly. "For instance, the way they empty their chamber pots. The grounds near the windows are absolutely filthy since they have no magic to banish it!"

"Father that's ghastly!" Ginevra admonished while Ronald laughed. "Is that all you got up to? Scaring the locals with your enthusiasm, learning of chamber pots, and finding a new wife?"

"Not quite," father said, digging into the pocket of his robe. He produced two small books. The first he handed to Ronald. "This is the newly published rules and history of the last century's Quidditch games."

"Fantastic!" Ronald said, immediately opening up the book and pouring over it's contents.

"And this," said father, showing her a beautiful, black, leather bound journal, "is for you, my dear. I know you always love to write your stories, now you've got something a little more refined in which to write them."

Ginevra hugged her father tightly. "I shall write in it every day." She kissed his cheek.

"Do you two like your new family?" he asked them, a slight frown on his face. "It's been the three of us for quite some time, I know it is a sudden change."

"They'll take some getting used to," Ronald muttered darkly.

"Ron!" Ginevra said sharply. She softened her face, turning to her father. "I am sure they're lovely, father. We just need to get to know them, is all."

"Well," father began hesitantly, "you two will have a little time, not to mention stories to tell when I return."

"Your leaving again?!" was Ginevra's shocked reply, while Ronald gasped, "You just got back!"

"I won't be going far," father said soothingly. "Only up to the north to finish up some business. I'll be back in a fortnight."

"Half that," Ginevra said, crossing her arms while Ronald nodded eagerly.

"Two weeks is all it will be."

"Just one," Ginevra said stubbornly, sliding off of the chair. "After all, you have a new wife. You shouldn't be going away at all, so you must keep the time short."

"All right, one," father conceded, standing up from the chair. With a wave of his wand the fire extinguished itself, a lit conjured candle filling the room with soft light. "I know that fierceness is your mother shining through you, Ginevra. Best to tread carefully when it comes to that. . . But, it is late. We should have been in bed already."

It was two weeks later that they received the terrible news of their father's demise, his group rousted by a dangerous pack of trolls while they were trying to help a poor family of muggles. Their new stepmother was of no comfort, showing no emotion other than anger at being brought to a "terrible place and left alone!"

It would be a ten long, hard years before Ronald wasn't the only man in Ginevra's life. Though, the man she was fated to meet would still be a boy in many ways.


	2. Chapter Two: The Prince

**Chapter Two: The Prince**

* * *

Harry James Potter and his good friend Draco Malfoy were arguing with one another, quite loudly in fact, despite the wind whipping around them as they flew on their brooms. The two were nearing the end of a long journey from Wales, flying over farmland housing in the countryside, finally making it to the outskirts of the realm.

"Well, if you didn't lose the Portkey we'd be home by now," Harry was saying.

"My apologies," Draco sneered. "How dare I to lose the Portkey home rather than get burnt to a crisp by a vicious Welsh Green."

"Well, if you only hid it like I told you to do, we would have that _and_ your wand wouldn't be snapped in half."

"Are you going to hold this over my head for the rest of my life, sir?" Draco asked, maneuvering quickly around a tree.

"At least until we get back to the castle," Harry shook his head. "We must stop. I'm in desperate need for some water to drink."

"Wine isn't to your liking anymore?" Draco laughed.

"Not if I wish to suffer from dehydration," Harry muttered. "There! Let's stop at that chateau."

They touched ground if front of a shabby, run down home; it definitely looked like it had seen better days, but they dismounting their brooms anyway. Draco knocked on the door of what seemed to be the servants entrance.

"Hello? We are in need."

The door cracked open, a face hidden in shadow. "We do not have anything to give, bother somebody else."

Draco's mouth dropped open as she tried to close the door in his face. He shoved his foot in, his chest puffing up importantly. "Do you know to whom you are speaking?"

"No, and I do not care, you toe-headed, ill-mannered man," said the voice forcefully. "I've got work to do. If you don't leave I'll be forced to draw a sword on you-now drive on." The door shut with a snap.

"Draco," Harry said sharply, drawing up to the door, "you don't need to act like an animal. Apparently she doesn't recognize you." He knocked on the door once more. "Please, madam, we only wish to have some water."

The door opened once more, revealing a small woman, covered in soot and shabby robes. Her hair was a fiery red, her chocolate brown eyes blazing as she looked at the two of them.

"We've had a long journey," Harry said with a slight bow. "If you'd only be so kind?"

She eyed him suspiciously for a long moment, checking over her shoulder before disappearing into shadow. There was banging inside before she emerged out of the door with a bucket and ladle, leading the way to a well nearby. Silently, she attached and lowered the bucket.

"Obviously you don't know who I am," said Draco, crossing his arms behind his back as he paced around the well. "But do you know who this man is?"

"I do not, sir," she answered, her eyes trained on the rope as she forcefully began to wind it back up.

"Draco," Harry began in warning.

"My name is Draco, of the noble house of Malfoy," he continued as if he hadn't heard Harry. "And the man you see there, is the royal prince." He leered over her, a smirk crossing his lips as she dropped the bucket with a gasp, bowing deeply.

"Forgive me, I did not recognize you!" she cried.

"Do you always treat strangers in such a beastly way?" Draco said, snatching Harry's wand from it's holster, flicking it towards the bucket and rope to make it rise on its own.

"I am sorry, sir. We are in need ourselves and have nothing to spare. I have offended you and for that I should die."

Harry glared at his friend, offering a hand to the girl. "Do not listen to him, madam," he said soothingly, helping her stand. "His bark is worse than his bite."

"But sir," she began, her eyes trained on the ground.

"I shall hear no more of it," he dismissed. "It's nice not to be recognized for once. We shall have our water and go."

Grimacing, she ladled out water to each of them, careful not to say a word lest she offend them again. She bowed once more as they mounted their brooms.

Draco took off without a word, but Harry hesitated. He withdrew a small sack of coins from the pocket of his robes.

"For your kindness," he said as he handed them to her. "As well as an apology for my friend. He forgets himself from time to time when speaking to a lady."

"I am no lady, sir," she said, eyeing the sack warily. "Merely an idiotic servant."

"Any woman, no matter her station, is a lady," he said gently. "I bid you a good day, madam."

* * *

Flying over the village of Hogsmeade, up to the castle of Hogwarts, Harry couldn't help the smile on his face. Any person that had the skill to put his dear friend in his place was appreciated. And to have a servant do it was an unexpected yet pleasant surprise.

When they touched down in the courtyard of the castle, they were greeted by his mother at the front door. Lily Potter's auburn hair shone brightly in the sun, her fine robes of green silk blowing gently in the wind. Her smile grew larger as she drew up to them, her ladies in waiting blushing as they stood watching, whispering to one another. Lily drew them both into hugs, despite their protests of being dirty from the journey. The queen held her son at arms length, eyeing him carefully. "You look like you could have eaten more on that journey, dear."

"I'm fine, mother," he said, kissing her cheek. "And it's wonderful to see you, too."

Her green eyes sparkled as she stepped aside, taking Draco's arm. "Baths first, you two. Then your father would like a word with you at supper. I have a feeling it has something to do with with the fact you've come home empty handed."

Harry refrained from rolling his eyes as his valet relieved him of his cloak and broom. "Expect several words, I understand."

Later, as Harry fastened the buttons of his black leather jerkin in the mirror, he heard a knock on the door. A familiar, untidy head peeked in before his father swept into the room, grinning at his son.

"Back from another adventure?" James Potter asked as he watched his son trying to make his hair lie flat.

"Yes, the conquering heroes have returned," Harry answered, glaring at his reflection. "That Welsh was quite a vicious specimen."

"You know well enough that isn't going to work," James chuckled.

"My wonderful inheritance," Harry murmured.

"If your not careful it shall be the only thing you will inherit from me," the king said, twirling his wand in his fingers.

"Father please, can't this wait-?"

"We're running out of time," James cut him off, his eyes flashing. "You are seventeen, a man now. And as a royal you must take a wife before your eighteenth birthday."

"I still have plenty of time," Harry answered dismissively.

"But you did not meet any Welsh maidens in all that time away with Draco?" father asked, his arms crossing his chest.

Harry turned about, pulling at the ruffled collar. "No, father, I did not meet any maidens. Draco may have met a few, but I doubt any of them were quite the type to bring home."

"Harry James," the king began threateningly.

"Father, what would you like me to say?" Harry sighed. "It's not like I could've fallen in love in mere days."

"Well, you know well the alternative," James said as he strode to the window. "You must marry your betrothed by your eighteenth birthday, as per the agreement we've made with the king. And she's getting more and more persistent on coming here for a visit to meet you. I can only hold her off for so long."

"Well, she shall be disappointed in me," Harry said stubbornly. "I'm sorry, father, but I refuse budge on this matter. I need to make this decision on my own-"

"Harry James Potter!" his father, having finally lost his patience, rounded on his son, pointing a threatening finger at him. "You were born into a life of privilege and with it the obligations. You have a responsibility. The combined forces of Hogwarts and Beauxbatons will be unstoppable-"

"So now I'm merely a pawn-"

"Of course not, but certain sacrifices have to me made!"

"Then I won't be king!" Harry roared. "Let Draco be king for all I care!"

James used one hand, pinning his son against the wall as he tried to leave the room. "Now you listen to me! I've tried to be patient, I've tried to give you what you want. Now is the time to put my foot down. You _will_ choose a maid to marry within a fortnight, or -"

"Or what?" Harry smirked. "You'll disown me and be king forever?"

"We haven't even had supper and you two are already fighting?"

The queen mother swept into the room, beaming at her son and husband. "Really, James, is that necessary?"

James took a step back, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He took a deep breath. "Harry, we only want what is best for you, yet you insist on fighting us the whole way."

"I understand that," Harry sighed. "It's just - not all arranged marriages end up like yours. People end up hating each other, trapped together for the rest of their miserable lives. You two are wonderful parents, but I must do what is right for me."

"All right," James rubbed his hand over his eyes, "how about we strike up a deal? We will hold a ball. . . We shall invite every maiden within the kingdom. If you do not find a wife that night, then I will announce your wedding to Lady Delacour, and that will be the end of it."

Harry thought for a moment, his foot tapping. " _Every_ maiden? Even those without noble blood?"

". . . If that is your wish," his father said, throwing a hand up.

"Then we have a deal, father."

"Excellent!" Lily said, clapping her hands together. "Then I shall begin on the arrangements." She stood before her husband, laying gentle hands on his shoulders as she stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "He will make the right decision in the end, my love," she breathed against his ear. She glided over to her son, pushing the fringe away from his forehead. "Choose carefully, my son. Divorce is only something the muggles do." With one last gracious smile to her son and husband, she swept from the room, squeezing Draco's arm affectionately as she went.

"Am I interrupting?" Draco asked as he strode into the room, smirking at the two men.

"No, now it's a party," James muttered. "What is it, Draco?"

"Well, do you all remember Lady Delacour? She's in the Great Hall waiting for you."

* * *

The rumors and talk of Lady Delacour did her no justice at all, Harry thought as he looked upon her and her ladies in waiting. Men that were setting up the long table tripped over themselves as they tried to get a better look at her. The very air around her seemed to glow as she glided up to Harry, a long mane of silvery blonde hair floating behind her, deep blue eyes twinkling as he bowed to her, placing a kiss upon her hand. _Part-Veela indeed,_ he thought.

"'Arry," she said softly, "eet iz so nice to be meeting you."

"My lady," Harry answered. "What brings you here to Hogwarts?"

"My ladies maids and I were traveling back 'ome from ze Americas," she answered. "We thought eet would be nice to see ze grand castle zhat is 'Ogwarts."

"You are always welcome, my dear," James said, bowing to the princess. "This is Draco Malfoy. He is not ours by blood but has spent nearly half of his life with us, effectively making him one of our own."

Draco bowed. "Lady Delacour, it's a pleasure. Will you be here long enough to see the realm? I've a feeling you might appreciate our quaint little village."

"Only until tomorrow," Fleur answered, "we must 'urry 'ome. My muzzer is very worried about us."

"Of course, you and your ladies will have the east tower," Lily said as she waltzed into the hall, grasping the young woman's arm, surprising her. She lead her towards the table. "Until then, have some supper with us. You must be hungry after your travels."

"Oh, very much, my queen."

Draco appeared by Harry's side, nudging him. "You don't want to marry _her_?" he whispered disbelievingly.

After they finished their dinner and deserts, full of wine and laughter (more so on Draco's part since he was so enamored by their sudden guest), the four of them gave Fleur a walking tour of the castle. She had eagerly taken Harry's arm when offered, almost leaning against him in her effort to get close while they viewed artwork and statues.

"I must say - your castle eez very nice," she said wittingly, "nearly as nice as my own."

"Was your stay in the Americas pleasant?" Draco asked from the other side of her. "Did you see any savages?"

"No, no, no, nothing like zhat," Fleur tittered. "We mostly viewed ze artworks and gardens. It was nice, but became very mundane after a while. We also visited an island my fazzer 'as recently commandeered. Ze most lush vegetation I 'ave ever seen!"

"Sounds delightful," James remarked as he escorted Lily behind them.

"Yes, you must veezit sometime!"

"My lady!" A servant came running along the hallway, bowing hastily to the group as he showed the queen an unrolled parchment. "I'm sorry to disturb you, I needed to ask you a few things about the ball."

"Oh, yes," Lily muttered, sharing a quick look with James, "come this way, Henry, and we'll discuss it."

"You are 'aving a ball in my honor, 'Arry?" Fleur asked as she batted her eyes at him.

"Um-er-"

"It's actually for young Draco's birthday," James said smoothly, patting Draco on the shoulder. "Though it was supposed to be a surprise."

Draco furrowed his brow at James, who gave him a meaningful look while Fleur was turned away. "R-right, that's right my birthday is coming up."

"And we need to make arrangements with the dressmaker, come Draco," James steered Draco down the next hallway, quickly disappearing from sight as Harry and Fleur walked on.

"It iz nice to meet my future 'usband," Fleur murmured when Harry took her up to the viewing tower. From the tower, you could see all of the grounds, the village of Hogsmeade and the realm beyond while you stood beneath the stars. "Do I please you, my prince?"

"Um-yes," Harry answered quickly, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "What interests you, my lady?"

She gave him a puzzled look. "I do not understand."

"Well, for instance, I myself like to play Quidditch, and I'm quite good with wand work," said Harry encouragingly. "Do you read or paint or. . . ?"

"Why would I?" she scoffed. "My muzzer always said those who feel ze need to read cannot think for themselves."

Harry caught himself bristling with that answer, instead trying another question. "Do you enjoy flying on a broom, then? Nothing seems better than feeling the wind through your hair."

"No, eet iz not proper, my prince," Fleur shook her silver head. "A lady's place ez to provide many sons for 'er future 'usband."

Harry resisted to urge to roll his eyes, turning away from her. "Surely that isn't all? What about companionship? Or even love?"

"I suppose . . . if zhat iz your wish," she said hesitantly. "I am parched. Will you call your house elves to bring me more wine?"

"Dobby?" Harry called, smiling as the little elf appeared behind him with a crack, wielding a bota bag full of wine and a golden goblet.

"My mistress," Dobby's nose nearly brushed the floor as he bowed. "May Dobby fill mistresses wine?"

"Please."

She shrieked as Dobby handed her the full goblet, some of the wine spilling onto her lovely gown, staining the silk. "You eembisil! Look what you 'ave done to my robes! My beautiful dress!"

Her hand moved in a flash as she struck Dobby across the head, aiming another slap before it was caught in Harry's firm grip.

"What do you think you are doing?" Harry asked her with narrowed eyes. "We do not treat our house elves in such a manner. It can be fixed with a simple spell."

She glared down at Dobby, who shook as he cowered and bowed, his nose now dragging across the floor. Another loud crack rent the air before Harry could finish the sentence to apologize and excuse him. Grace eased her features as her eyes met once more with his, smoothing her clothing back into place.

"'Arry, please to not be cross with me," she said, running a hand through her hair. "We just 'ave differences, you and I. But I am sure zhat we can work through them. If zis iz to be my new home, some changes must be made. . . But I believe I would make a good wife for you, my prince."

"Changes such as?" Harry leaned against the wall of the tower, his arms crossing his chest as he willed himself to calm down.

"Well, for one thing, we do not treat our 'ouse elves as equals, 'Arry," she said as she sipped her wine. "Eet would be like treating ze muggles as equals, when we are supposed to rule over them."

Harry felt the hairs on his arms begin to stand up with the rise of his anger. "And what else?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"Well, ze castle must be brought into ze sixteenth century, 'Arry," she chuckled, striding forward to take his hand in her own. "Your muzzer's tastes are nice but not as refined as mine. . . I believe zhat we can make eet work."

"My lady, I think you forget yourself," Harry answered, trying to keep as calm as possible as he slid his hand from her grip.

"What do you mean, my prince?" she asked, those eyelashes batting at him once more. It only served to infuriate him more.

"You are to marry me and live in _my_ castle. If you become my wife you will have to obey our laws."

"'Arry, I will not be made to live under insufferable conditions!"

"Insufferable?!" he roared. "What is insufferable is the manner in which you regard others!"

"Harry!" came the shrill voice of his mother. James and Draco stood on either side of her, gaping while she glowered at her son. " _What_ is the meaning of this?"

"I'll tell you mother," Harry said, his anger like a tidal wave rolling through him, "I cannot marry someone so pompous."

There was a collective gasp around him, most loudly from Fleur.

"Our _arrangement_ iz off!" she shrieked, stamping her foot. "Your son is a rude and angry man! I will be telling my fazzer about zis!" She whirled, intending to make an exit but seemed to have thought better of it. She stalked back to Harry, stamping hard on his foot, cursing him in French before she slapped him. The air around her cackled as she descended the dark staircase, the rapid, angry french heard for some time after she had disappeared.

Lily's hand covered her mouth in horror, Draco's eyes wide as saucers as he gaped at his friend. James merely rubbed a hard hand across his eyes, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Good riddance, then!" Harry snapped, running a hand along his cheek.

"Harry," Lily began.

"You cannot convince me otherwise!" Harry glared at his two parents. "If I do not find a bride, then so be it-but I will never marry that spoiled little princess!"

With that, he strode passed them, leaving them speechless as he stomped down the staircase.

Draco recovered first, awkwardly clearing his throat. "I think that went well, don't you?"

* * *

 **Author's note:** There will be a little more background on Draco in future chapters. I thought of changing it around from the original version I had written, but I love the idea of him turning over a new leaf, despite the fact he hasn't quite dropped all of his arrogant ways.

 **08/04/2015: Fixed a few grammatical errors.**


	3. Chapter Three: The Maiden

**Author's note:** To those of you that have taken the time to review or add this story to your lists, I thank you. I hope you all enjoy this next installment.

 **Chapter Three: The Maiden**

* * *

The last ten years had been rough and cruel for Ginevra Weasley and her brother Ronald. Shortly following the death of their father, their new stepmother's true nature was revealed. Jealous of their charm, wit, and Ginevra's beauty in comparison to her own two daughters, she had forced them into servitude, taking not only their wands, but the wands of the family servants. The condition of their childhood home had fallen into disrepair, their father's fortune squandered on trying to advance Pansy and Millicent in society. Even though they were endlessly cruel to Ginevra and her family, she stayed in her father's home, obeying every command and task thrown at her. She hoped that one day she and her brother would be able to take back their family home and begin to right all the wrongs that had been committed. They prayed for the day that one of their stepsisters would marry into the wealth they so eagerly sought and be swept away, finally leaving them in peace.

"Ginny!"

She woke to find her brother standing over her, a crick in her back from falling asleep in front of the fire yet again. Her brother's face was strained as he shook her shoulders to rouse her.

"Wah?" she asked groggily, glaring at her brother.

"The hags will be up any minute," he said. "You'd best get a start on breakfast."

Groaning, Ginvera stowed her diary safely in the robe of her pockets, stretching gloriously as she yawned loudly. "Have you heard them scuttling about yet?"

"No, but I'll be long gone before they rouse," Ronald said darkly, fixing a hat made of straw upon his head.

"GINEVRA!" Came a loud screech, filling the air and startling them both.

"Right on time," muttered Ginevra.

When she'd finally stumbled into the kitchen, Minerva and Hermione were already hard at work, breakfast nearly done.

"Were you up all night again, Ginny?" Hermione asked, suppressing a smile as she placed a hot kettle upon a large tray. "You're covered in soot."

"I could say the same about you and father's books," Ginevra grinned, making her friend blush. "It was so cold in our room last night, my feet were like ice."

"Yes, what a difference some warming charms would make," Minerva sighed. She checked over her shoulder, lowering her voice. "Have you decided on what to do with your reward?"

Ginevra smiled, feeling as if the satchel of coins were burning a hole through the pocket of her robes. The unexpected visit from the prince yesterday could not have come at a more convenient time, for soon it would be Ronald's birthday. It was more than enough to buy him a new broom, something he'd desperately missed since childhood. She hadn't been able to give him a gift since they were children, and even back then it was merely small, handmade items.

"I just need to get into Hogsmeade when they go shopping next," Ginevra said excitedly as she loaded the tray with creams, salt and a pitcher of water. "Hermione, you know what to do, yes?"

"I'll be making my way to the orchards soon," Hermione smiled.

"And what shall you do to get such a gift back here?"

"Remus will find a way to sneak it on," Ginevra replied excitedly in hushed tones. "I only need to reach to the carriage before they return."

"GINEVRA!" this time three irritable voices filled the air, making them all jump.

"Take heed, dear," Minerva said gravely, patting her cheek. "If she sees those coins they shall be as good as gone."

Ascending the stairs, Ginevra took a moment to keep her features under control before she entered the dining room. Taking a deep breath, she wore a slight smile as she hurried into the dining room where her stepmother and two stepsisters sat, glaring at her.

"About time!" Millicent snapped, snatching the offered loaf of bread away from her hand.

"Look at you, covered in ash _again_ ," Pansy sneered as she took a sip of tea. "Do you _like_ being filthy all of the time?"

"I'm sorry, dear stepsister," Ginevra murmured, working hard to keep any malice from her voice.

"Honestly, Ginevra," snapped Aurora, "I do not understand why you cannot try harder. I feed you, clothe you, and have provided a place for you and that brother of yours to lay your filthy little heads down. Would it wound you so to try harder?"

Just then, a rather handsome barn owl swooped into the open window, landing in front of the baroness before it held out its leg. Aurora quickly untied the rolled up parchment attached, hastily avoiding getting bitten as she shooed the animal away.

"What does it say?" Millicent said eagerly, her mouth full of bread.

Her mother stared her down, an eyebrow arched as she watched her daughter gulp loudly. "'To the Baroness Sinistra and the ladies of the house. Their majesties King James and Queen Lily cordially invite you to a masque ball in two days hence. The King and Queen welcome all eligible maidens of the house to attend in the hopes of young Prince Harry choosing a bride."

Pansy and Millicent squealed in excitement, causing Ginevra to nearly spill hot tea on the table top, gritting her teeth against the grating noise.

"Mother, we must find something to wear!" Pansy clapped her hands together, bouncing in her seat.

"You're absolutely right," Aurora agreed. "We must gather anything that will fetch a price."

Ginevra found just enough time to bathe before the ladies were ready to leave for the village, quickly making herself as presentable as possible despite her shabby robes and plain cotton dress. She hurried out of the front door as they ambled into the carriage, Aurora pausing as she caught sight of her stepdaughter.

"Ginevra, where do you think you are going?"

"Erm-Hermione needed to pay a visit to the orchard," Ginevra stuttered. "Minerva thought I might make an appropriate substitute to help with the shopping."

Aurora rolled her eyes, following her daughters into the carriage. Remus gave her a surprised look as he helped her up onto the perch, nudging her affectionately. "Couldn't have worked any better, eh, Ginny?" he murmured as he snapped the reigns.

The town was a buzz with activity, scores of witches scurrying about from shop to shop. As they parked the carriage, Ginevra noticed a crowd of people gathered around a rather large poster, presumably an advertisement of the upcoming masque.

"What on earth is going on?" Remus wondered aloud as he helped her down.

"Everyone has lost their minds over this royal masque," Ginevra answered with a frown. "Such a glib expense when there are so many hungry children overlooked in the realm."

"Hold your tongue," Aurora snapped as she exited the carriage. "This may be the most important ball of the century, you fool. Ginevra-take the garments to Lady Malkin's shop to sell, and then meet us at the jewelers when your are finished. Do not dawdle, time is of the essence."

"Yes, stepmother," she curtsied weakly as her sisters threw a piles of heavy robes and dresses at her. With that the three of them were off, her stepsisters chatting excitedly. She shared a look with Remus before she hurried up the street in search of the right shop.

Ginevra made quick work of ridding herself of the robes and gowns, arguing the shop keeper into a more decent price for them. The woman grudgingly agreed that, while the garments were older, some of the ladies might like to wear a more vintage look to stand out from the rest of the crowd and impress the prince. Running as fast as she could to the Quidditch supply shop, she could not suppress her smile as she cautiously entered. She forgot herself as she ran a hand along the fine fabrics of the Quidditch cloaks, eyed the shiny new racing brooms, polishes, manuals, and kits. She remembered fondly the times she and her brother would race around the orchard. Father had always warned her against trying to play Quidditch, as it was not proper for a lady to play. But in her stubbornness she would often steal his broom and sneak away in the night. He eventually relented, buying her a small broom of her own, warning her to stay hidden amongst the copse of trees, fearful that someone would see her. Their brooms were among some of the first things to go after he died.

The shop was filled with only men, who eyed her suspiciously as she looked over the secondhand brooms, quickly dismissing them. "Can I help you?" The shopkeeper appeared at her side. "I think you may be lost, madam."

Ginevra straightened herself up, willing to appear as tall and confident as she could. "I'm here to procure a broom for my master."

"Why isn't he here to pick it out himself?" The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow, leering over her.

"My master's time is better spent elsewhere," she answered defiantly, waving the sack of gold in his face. "I have the money to purchase a racing broom, you must help me."

"Then you must be a thief!" The man grabbed her wrist roughly, holding her in place. "Who did you take this from?"

"I swear, this gold is mine!" she said, trying in vain to break free. "I have stolen nothing!"

"Liar!" he answered sharply, dragging her towards the door. "The guard of the realm will decide on this!"

"Please, I beg you, I am no thief!" she cried, panic gripping her. "I would never steal from anyone!"

As they neared the door, it swung open to reveal two well dressed men, laughing at one another. Ginevra was forced down into a bow with the shopkeeper as Prince Harry and Lord Draco entered the shop, eyeing them warily.

"Your highness, a pleasure as always to grace us with your presence," said the man. "Are you already in need of new Quidditch robes?"

"Of course, Auguste," answered the prince. "As well as some new safety guards. . . What have we here?"

"I have apprehended a thief, my lord." The man snatched the gold away from her, holding it aloft for all his patrons to see. "She is bound for the stalks." This was met with a murmur of agreement amongst the men occupying the shop.

Ginevra dared a glance at the prince, her mouth set in a grim line. Quickly running out of options to save herself, she silently begged him to recognize her as he looked upon them. Draco's eyebrow arched, confusion and surprise dawning his features as he blinked down at her.

"Auguste, release her," the prince said, taking the gold from him. "She is no thief."

"Your highness, never in my years have I seen a servant earn this much money," Auguste argued, his face turning purple in his anger. "She must have stolen it off the belt of a noble, the material of the bag looks more expensive than what is inside it."

"Well, today you have," the prince answered as he helped her to stand, "because it was I who gave her the gold."

Ginevra released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, clutching the gold close to her chest as it was handed back to her. She felt every eye in the room trained on her as they watched the exchange, eerily silent after the admission.

"She is a paying customer, it is your duty to give her whatever she asks for," Prince Harry continued.

"You know as well as I that women are not permitted to purchase brooms for themselves, highness," Auguste argued.

"I _told_ you," Ginevra ground out. "The broom is for my master."

"Then I see no reason to refuse her patronage," said the prince, crossing his arms as he glared at the man, looking rather formidable. "Unless, of course, you prefer to lose mine as well?"

"N-no, no, no, your highness," Auguste said nervously, wringing his hands together. "Of course, the lady may have whatever she likes."

"Madam?" the prince bowed slightly to her, escorting her back to where the new brooms were kept.

She bowed to the prince, hardly believing her luck. Her hands shook slightly as she pointed out a Nimbus model she'd spotted earlier, asking to see it up close. She ran a hand along the smooth handle, eyeing the bristles carefully, making sure that not a single one was out of place.

"Ah, the Nimbus model," said the prince, smiling. "I've one of my own. It's quite fast, handles well; a sturdy handle made of oak. My guess is your master is quite skilled with flying?"

"Yes, your highness," Ginevra asked, nervous about being in such close proximity to the prince once more. "I shall take this one," she said more steadily, shoving the sack of gold at the shopkeeper. Her heart swelled with warmth as the man begrudgingly handed her the wrapped up broom, his mustache twitching as he tried to keep his silence.

"You seem to be quite the troublemaker," Lord Draco remarked as he slowly spun a quaffle in his hands.

"If the occasion arises, sire." The threat of a smile made her lips twitch.

"It's quite refreshing," said the prince, a small smile gracing his features. "You seem to possess not only the skill of a quick mouth, but the knowledge of well-made racing brooms."

"I must go, your highness, my master will be waiting for me," a blush crept up her cheeks at his compliment. She hid her face as she bowed deeply. "I thank you for all your help, sire."

The prince stared after her a moment once she was gone, the smile still glued to his face. "I think I rather enjoyed that."

"Of course you did," Draco said as he tossed him a golden snitch. "You got to be the hero again."

* * *

Even though she was immediately berated for taking too long on her task, she and Remus managed to smuggle the new broom back to the chateau. Late in the afternoon, Ginevra found some free time and picked a long piece of straw from her mattress, tying it in a bow around the handle of the wrapped broom. She and Hermione snuck it down into the cellar, hiding it in shadow near the fireplace.

"That'll have to do," she murmured, met with an affectionate squeeze of the shoulder.

"Ginny, this will be the best surprise he's received in quite a long time," she said quietly. "We could all use a little happiness every once in a while."

"I know," she swiped at a traitorous tear as it made it's escape. "Tis a small constellation. The anniversary is so close to his birthday, hopefully this will make a decent distraction. Though I'd give anything in the world to see him again, and I know Ron feels the same. . ."

Ronald's birthday fell on the week following their father's death. He once said it was like a betrayal to his memory, celebrating while his father was already dead, regardless of not having a clue until much later. Since then his mood was often dark on his birthday, and despite her best efforts to put his spirits in a brighter place, she'd been gloriously unsuccessful. Her hand covered her heart, feeling as if it was breaking once more for not only her brother but herself.

"This will make a happy memory, Ginny," Hermione assured her. A roll of parchment fell from her robes. "Oh my-"

"Hermione?" Ginevra recognized the wax seal on the parchment, her brow furrowing. "Why do you have the invitation for the masque?"

"I-er-I found it when I was cleaning up the dining room this morning," Hermione stuttered. "I decided to take a look at it."

"For what reason?" Ginevra asked, reaching for the parchment.

"Well. . ." her friend hesitated, her mouth working wordlessly as she hid it behind her back. She couldn't make eye contact with the younger maiden as she backed up a few paces. "I just wanted to look over the wording with my own two eyes," she finally said, squaring her shoulders.

"Hermione," Ginevra said, hands on her hips, "you think I do not know when you are hiding something."

"All right," the other girl sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I will tell you, but only when the right moment arises. You must wait until after your brother receives his gift. I do not wish to take the attention away from him."

Ginevra could only agree despite her curiousity.

"What in Merlin's name are you up to?" Ronald asked, Ginevra covering his eyes from behind as Hermione took his hand to lead. Remus and Minerva chuckled as they followed, careful to keep an eye behind them lest the ladies of the house hear. They slowly led him down into the cellar, despite his many protests.

"Only a little further, Ron," Hermione answered in a singsong voice.

Ginevra felt the smile lift his cheeks, knowing full well how much he enjoyed being able to hold Hermione's hand. Much more receiving any attention from her. She rolled her eyes, wishing he would just get on with confessing his feelings already. A nervous rumbling rolled in her stomach as Remus swept passed, holding the broom in hand.

"Are we ready?" she asked, feeling as if her smile would crack her face. "One . . . two . . . three!"

She quickly withdrew her hands, striding around her brother to join her friends. He paled in surprise as he eyed the package in Remus's hands, his hand shaking as he pointed to it.

"Is-is. . . Is that what I think it is?" he blurted.

"Happy name day, Ron!" they said in unison, positively beaming at having pulled off such a wonderful surprise.

"B-but how?" Ron spluttered, seemingly frozen on the spot.

"We have been blessed by an angel of mercy," was all Ginevra said, taking the broom to hand over to her brother.

"You must be cautious of being seen," added Remus. "Perhaps flying only by light of the moon, or when you are sure _they_ will not see."

Moving to a stack of crates, Minerva retrieved a tray of freshly made apple pillows, offering one to each of them as Ronald, finally overcoming the initial shock, began to unwrap the present with the utmost care. His mouth dropped open as he stared at the fancy lettering etched into the handle, dreamily running a finger along the fine script. "How can I accept this?"

"Graciously," said Hermione sternly, shoving an apple pillow into his free hand. "It was not easy to procure, so you had better take good care of it."

"I will," Ronald promised, nodding his head vigorously. "Thank you. Thank you all so much."

* * *

Two days later, on the morning of the masque, once her family had gone to the village in search of the final touches for their costumes, Ginevra sought out her friend, finding her in the bedrooms, tidying up. She helped her friend as she finished making up Pansy's bed, fluffing the pillows and smoothing the sheets, feeling as if she was going to burst. Hermione had been very mysterious about that parchment and it was driving her mad. Whenever Hermione got that look in her eye, trouble would be just around the corner. She nearly flinched when she remembered the her stepmother's discovery of many magical books in their shared room with Minerva, and the sound lashing that had followed.

"Are you going to make me wait all day?" she demanded, finally unable to keep her silence.

A mischievous smile lit up her friend's features. "Oh, are you speaking of the parchment?" she asked innocently.

"Hermione!"

With a flash, the parchment was in her hand. She unrolled it, holding it aloft as she read aloud. "This reads: 'The King and Queen welcome all _eligible_ maidens of the house.' It invites the _ladies_ of the house to attend. I may not be eligible to go, but _you_ can, Ginny. Those are your technically your sisters, they are not above you as they seem to think."

"Oh no," Ginevra shook her head vigorously, "I do not like this idea, Hermione. Simply banish the thought."

"Ginevra, opportunities like this come once in a lifetime!" the clever girl said as she rounded the bed, grasping her friend's hand. "We could disguise you! It is a masque, after all."

"And what will you make my mask of?" the red head asked skeptically. "Hay straw and scraps of fabric? And shall I mention that I have no gown to wear? Or do you plan on stealing one of Pansy's dresses for me to wear?"

"I can be a little more creative than that," Hermione frowned, a little wounded. "It's not as if you'll be going to woo the prince. You'll simply be going to eat all the wonderful food, dance with handsome men, drink delicious wine, and then come home to tell me all about it. It shall be a study!"

Ginevra heaved up an overflowing basket of the days laundry, balancing it on her hip. "Do you know how mad that sounds? _If_ you were to dress me up, and _if_ you were somehow able to make me a masque befitting this ball, what would become of me if stepmother got wind of this? She would probably whip me to death."

"She _won't_ ," Hermione promised. "Just think on it, Ginny. That is all I ask."

Ginevra nodded for the sake of her friend, though she had already made up her mind on the idea. The only thing she wanted to think about was how she was going to get the family home back under the care and management of she and her brother. She had grown immensely tired of it's state of decay while her stepmother threw away the few galleons they had left.

She went about her day, trying not to think of the masque, or worse the prince. It had been a once in a lifetime chance to meet him, let alone to be able to converse with him. And then for him to appear out of the blue and rescue her the other day. It seemed he was as noble as the gossip made him out to be, though much more handsome than she'd ever imagined. She felt like any woman that tried to keep her wits would easily get lost staring into those emerald orbs of his, the easy smile and endearingly messy hair. She often had to shake herself out of her thoughts, and had even received a verbal lashing for spilling a water goblet at lunch.

After the family was served an early supper, the girls scurried up to their rooms excitedly, ready to be dressed for the ball. When Ginevra sat down to eat her own supper, she could not help but notice the wide smile on Hermione's lips as she sat across from her friend.

"What is it now?" she asked, her eyes trained on her broth as she sipped slowly from her spoon.

"I've found something that might interest you," Hermione said airily. "Would you be so kind as to accompany me to the basement?"

"I've just only sat down for my supper!" Ginevra's brow furrowed. "Can't it wait?"

"Never," Hermione answered, sweeping behind her to cover her eyes, "you know me better than that."

Ginevra put hands out in front of her, feeling blindly for any obstructions. "Hermione, I do not have time for games. My stepsisters will need help getting dressed."

"Leave that to me," she heard Minerva say. "You shall be otherwise occupied."

"Otherwise occupied-whatever do you mean?"

"Look upon your brother and you shall know," said Hermione, removing her hands.

Her brother smiled sheepishly as he held a beautiful, delicate gown. Her heart swelled as she took in the sight of delicate lace and sewn in jewels, the neckline demure and modest. Tears brimmed her eyes as she fought for the right words.

"Where did you find that?" she asked at last. "I thought it lost forever."

"I hid it," Ronald replied softly. "I had been saving it for your wedding day, but I think mother would approve of such an event."

She strode forward, almost afraid to touch the gown, as if it might disappear if her unworthy fingers handled it. "I-I can't."

"You can, Ginny," Ronald said with a smile. "You work so very hard. You deserve a night to enjoy yourself."

Her tears spilled over. "But what of stepmother?"

"She cannot refuse," said Minerva, taking her hands. "You are a lady, dear Ginevra, and should not be denied the right to attend the ball."

"Go ahead, Ginny," Ronald said, gently laying the robe in her arms. "It's all right."

"Shall I?" she said thickly, looking to Hermione and Minerva, who both nodded in agreement.

"Then we shall take our leave," said Minerva, taking Ronald's arm in her own. "Your sister must get dressed."

As Hermione helped Ginevra slip on her mother's wedding gown, it felt foreign yet familiar, fitting her perfectly. She could not help but run her hands along the fine fabric, hardly recognizing herself as she looked into the uncovered mirror her brother had found. Her skin looked nearly translucent with the fine fabric laying against it, her long hair wrapped up into an elegant bun atop her head. Hermione had smuggled some extra some powder, kohl and vermillion from Pansy's vanity to enhance her features, making her look very different from the girl that had entered the basement less than an hour before.

There was a soft knock on the door, followed by Ronald's voice. "There isn't much time left," he said as loudly as he dared. "You'd better hurry."

Hermione added the last few touches, squeezing her friends shoulders before she opened the door. Ronald and Remus carefully filed in, their eyes widening at the sight of her.

"Ginny," Ronald said in awe, "you look wonderful."

"For one small moment, it felt as if I was looking at your mother," Remus added, inclining his head.

"Dear Remus, it is only a dress," Ginevra said, despite the blush creeping up her cheeks.

Ronald stepped forward, taking his sister's hand in his own. "But tonight, you are a lady. Let no one treat you otherwise, dear sister."

"And remember to bow as the nobles do," Hermione added hastily, "not as the servants do."

She smiled shyly. "How will I be able to make it to the ball?"

"We've borrowed a horse from old Mungungus," Ronald said proudly.

"Borrowed?" she repeated, unbelieving. "However did you manage that?"

"He doesn't know, he was a happily drunk when we took it," laughed her brother. "I do not think he even noticed. The poor animal will not be missed."

"We must hurry now," said Hermione, "they shall want to leave at any moment. Come Ginny, we will sneak you out."

"Take care to avoid the ladies," Remus warned in a murmur as they reached the landing of the steps.

"And don't stay too late, the ladies shall be expecting you when they arrive home," added Hermione.

"And have fun," said Ronald as he kissed her hand.

"Thank you," Ginevra beamed at all of them. "I shall never forget this."

They all smiled warmly as she disappeared into the foyer. She took care to lift the gown, afraid to get dirt on it on the short journey from the door to the stables. She found a handsome painted steed, saddled and waiting for her. Mounting the horse, she struggled a little with riding side-saddle, but soon got the hang of it as the horse lazily lead them away. She'd nearly made it when voices floated over to her, halting the horse at once so that her stepfamily would not hear the click of it's hooves.

"Where is Remus?" Pansy whined. "We will be late to the ball!"

"The only reason we shall be late, dear sister," snapped Millicent, "is because you had to spend all your time fretting over your hair."

"I must look my best!" Pansy snarled back. "How many times must I tell you? When I look back on tonight's fond memories, I wish everything to be perfect."

"You act as if you've already stolen the prince's heart," said Millicent. "Well I have news for you-"

"Girls, girls," said Aurora, sounding bored, "Do not work yourselves into a frenzy. I do not wish to hear your arguing the whole way. I will find Remus. Wait here."

As her two stepsisters began to get into the carriage, Ginevra decided to take the chance to make her escape. She clicked her tongue softly at the horse, urging him forward. All seemed well, until-

"Who's there?" asked Pansy, sounding scared.

She stalled the horse, holding her breath as she silently prayed for another distraction, any to catch their attention.

"Show yourself!" came Millicent's voice after a moment. "You are on private property and we will hex you!"

"I see someone!" gasped Pansy. "A girl on a horse! Come here!"

"She looks familiar," said Millicent as they opened the door of the carriage, squinting their eyes as they tried to see her. Murmurs of a spell made the tips of the wands shine brightly, enough to reveal her atop the steed. "Come here, girl. Unless you wish to be cursed."

Her teeth set on edge, Ginevra felt despair as she contemplated her choice. If she tried to run now, she would risk the poor horse getting hit by a wayward spell. Sighing in defeat, she dismounted, walking slowly towards the light of two wands held aloft. She heard a horrified gasp as her face was thrown into relief, her two stepsisters quickly jumping out of the carriage.

"What in Merlin's name do you think you are doing?" Pansy hissed, nearly poking Ginevra with her wand as she advanced.

"Where did you get the dress?" asked Millicent, glaring down at her.

"I-It was my mother's," she answered, feeling her hands begin to shake in fear.

"It is positively the most repulsive thing I've ever seen," Pansy said, roughly pulling at the fabric of the dress. "Do you think you are going to the ball?"

"Dear stepsister," Ginevra answered softly, "the invitation was extended to all the ladies of the house-"

"And you think you have the qualifications of a lady?" Pansy stepped closer, roughly grabbing her chin. "Do you think you'll keep the attention of the prince when he realizes who you really are? That this is only a farce?"

"I do not wish to capture his attention," she answered, feeling her heart begin to pound painfully in her chest.

"Then you should not be attending at _all_!" Millicent roared, grasping her dress and pulling with all her might. The delicate fabric gave in quickly with a sound rip.

Before she could make an escape, both girls lunged forward, yanking at any part of the dress they could get a hold of. Ginevra struggled to get away, watching in horror as her mother's gown was ripped to shreds before her very eyes. Millicent shoved her roughly into the tree, snatching awaythe ribbon that held her hair in place. Unable to keep the tears at bay, she glared at her two stepsisters as they spilled down her face, soaking into the tattered remains of her dress.

"Let that be a lesson to you, dear Ginevra," Pansy sneered. "You shall never amount to anything more than a shabby servant."

"Girls!"

The two smiled venomously at her, retreating back to the carriage, leaving her in shadow. Tears blurring her eyes, she turned and ran blindly for the orchard, a broken sob slipping past her lips as she tripped in the darkness, her heart and her hopes shattering into pieces. It served her right, she thought as she stumbled through the trees, to think that she would be allowed such a wonderful night.


	4. Chapter Four: A Wish Granted

**Author's Note:** Another round of thanks to those of you that have reviewed and followed!

 **Chapter Four: A Wish Granted**

* * *

Trying in vain to hold onto what remained of her dress, Ginevra stumbled into the orchard, choking back sobs as they wracked her body. Collapsing against the trunk of a large apple tree, she finally gave into her tears, angry with herself for letting her stepsisters see her cry; for showing any signs of weakness. Jewels littered the grass around her, the neckline of the dress falling limply around her shoulders. Her feet ached miserably after the run, the slippers adorning her feet ripped from the exertion. Her heart broke when she thought of what her friends and brother would say upon her return home; the look of disappointment that would cross Hermione's face when she saw all of her hard work diminished to nothing. She did not want to see the looks of pity on her friends' faces. She resolved to stay until well after they were all asleep, even if it took all night, consequences be damned. She would hide this away, and think of it only as a terrible dream. What a a great fool she was! How foolish to get her hopes up at the prospect of speaking with the prince again. How foolish to think her step-family would permit her to actually enjoy herself for once.

If this night was going to teach her anything, it would teach her to never be that foolish girl again.

"There is no good left in this world," she murmured to herself, pulling at the knot in her hair.

"I wouldn't be so quick to make such an assumption," said a disembodied voice, startling her.

"W-who's there?" she gasped, startled. "You are trespassing on private grounds!"

"I think that is the least of your worries," giggled the voice.

"Show yourself!" she cried, feeling threatened as she shakily rose to her feet.

"Well, since you've asked so nicely."

She was blinded by a sudden white light that seemed to fill the entire orchard. She used her hand to shield her eyes, squinting as the light gave way to pouring mist, revealing the strangest woman she had ever set eyes on.

She was dressed in a lilac colored gown, floor length and bell sleeved that seemed to float around her as she glided towards Ginevra. Delicate looking iridescent wings protruded from her back, fluttering softly. But the strangest part was that her hair was akin to the color of pink roses, and cut rather short, resembling more the kind of style men usually wore; the short ends stood up in every direction, making her look something wild. Her dark eyes twinkled as she smiled down at Ginevra, her hands held up as if in surrender.

"Who are you?" she rasped out, gripping the tree behind her as if for protection. "What purpose do you have with me?"

"Relax, dear Ginny," she said as the mist began to clear away, the bright light giving way to a soft glow. "If I had any desire to hurt you I think you would already know."

"Then how do you know my name?!" she snapped.

"Well, somebody's feisty this night," the woman chortled, risking a step closer. "Let us start over, shall we? Ginevra, my name is Nymphadora Tonks, but you may call me Tonks. I'm a fairy. Your fairy godmother to be exact."

Ginevra's brow only furrowed at the admission.

"I know, it's all rather strange, isn't it?" Tonks asked. "And I know what you are thinking."

"That there is no such thing," she muttered.

"But there is," Tonks said, her smile growing wider. "How else could I be standing before you?" She waved her hand, conjuring a stone bench, lowering herself down. She padded the spot beside her. "If you'd be so kind as to have a seat? I think this conversation might be better if you weren't cowering against that tree."

Knowing things could not get any more strange, yet feeling the beginnings of trust, Ginevra moved away from the tree and sank down beside her, though she was careful to sit as far away from the other woman as the bench allowed. "How did you come to be here?" she finally asked.

"Believe it or not, I've been with you for quite some time," Tonks answered. "When your father died, the powers that be asked me to watch over you."

"The p-powers that be?"

"It's much too complicated to explain at the moment, Ginny. . ."

"Why haven't you shown yourself before?"

Tonks frowned. "I know what you are about to ask," she said sadly, "and the answer is no. There was no way for me to save him."

Ginevra's shoulders slumped. She tried to ignore the painful lump that had lodged itself in her throat, swallowing against it. "Then why are you here now?"

"Well isn't it obvious?" Tonks asked. When she was answered with only silence she laughed, the wings at her back fluttering rapidly. "Ginevra, I'm here to grant your wish."

"My wish?"

"Do you think that I do not know your heart, Ginevra?" Tonks took hold of her hands. "Aside from gaining back your father's home, this ball is the only other thing that you ever dared to hope for."

Ginevra's mouth worked wordlessly.

"And do not think that the solution to _that_ problem is not on the horizon. It may very well work itself out without any help on my part. . . Now, how about we get you ready for the ball? Even miracles take a little time."

She began to rise, tripping rather unceremoniously on the hem of her dress. She yelped as she stumbled forward, uttering a string of curses as the other girl caught her, a giggle bubbling in her throat. "Are you all right?"

"I must say I'm surprised that we made it as far as we did before my clumsiness decided to rear it's ugly head." Tonks blushed slightly, straightening her dress.

"Even though I have no comparison, you seem like quite an extraordinary fairy, Tonks."

"Never mind that, judge me on my skills, not my lack of coordination."

Ginevra could not help but smile at a statement like that.

"So, what shall we begin with?" Tonks said, withdrawing a silver wand from inside her sleeve. It seemed to sparkle in the glowing light, an intricate pattern of flowers woven into the handle. "I think perhaps that dress may need some attention." She backed up a few paces, her lip twisting in thought. "I must ask you to spin around, but do so very slowly. . ."

Still feeling a little unsure, Ginevra obliged. With a wave of her wand, Tonks began to cast the spell. Glittering sparkles burst forth from the tip of her wand, falling all around them like snow, the beauty of it like nothing Ginevra had ever seen before. She watched in wonder as her gown began to change, the tattered lace forming into a fine, pale pink silk, the length extending to the floor. A matching bodice formed with pale gold ribbon weaving through to hold it together. She noted, with as little vanity as she could muster given that she was not well endowed, the attractive way the corset held her, giving way to the expanse of skin from her chest and up her neck as cap sleeves were made into gauzy, off the shoulder straps. The torn shoes repaired themselves, forming into delicate yet sturdy glass slippers. Her hair fell down about her shoulders, curling into soft waves. A small, intricate gold tiara appeared, fixing itself atop her head.

"Now I think this is something more appropriate," Tonks beamed. She waved her wand once more, a beautiful gold mask appearing out of thin air. She carefully fixed it onto the young girl, touching a tendril of her hair as she looked her over.

Unable to help herself, Ginevra spun around in delight. "Thank you so much, Tonks. This is the most beautiful dress I've ever clapped eyes on!"

"It is only made so by your own beauty," Tonks inclined her head. "Now, however shall you get to the ball?"

"I think Mundungus' horse ran off," Ginevra answered, frowning. "I'm so foolish-I didn't even think about the poor thing!"

"He will find his way home," Tonks assured her. "However sweet that steed was, I think you should arrive with more style than he could have offered." Waving her wand one last time, a fine broom appeared in Ginevra's hand.

"It's forbidden!" Ginevra gasped. "Someone will surely see me."

"No one will see you," said Tonks soothingly. "Have you already begun to doubt my magical abilities? Take flight and be happy, Ginevra. Enjoy this night. . . But take heed. This magic may be powerful, but it can only last for so long. When the bells ring at midnight the spell will be broken, and everything will be as it was before."

"It seems a small price to pay for such a wonderful gift," she took her godmother's hand. "How can I possibly begin to thank you for what you've done?"

"You can thank me by having a wonderful time," Tonks told her. "The hour grows late, Ginevra. You must leave."

Tonks watched the young girl as she mounted the broom, sitting upon it the same as she did the steed to remain proper and not wrinkle the dress. "Oh!" she gasped. "And one last thing."

"Yes?"

"If you find yourself in any trouble, all you need to do is whistle. The broom will find you wherever you are so that you may get away. But you must be cautious."

"I will," Ginevra answered. "I promise."

With that she began her ascent, watching as Tonks grew smaller and smaller before she disappeared in a flash of light. Her heart soared as she felt the wind in her hair, laughing in joy as she set course for the castle.

* * *

As Harry looked into a full length mirror, pulling at the cuffs of his linen shirt, he felt his palms begin to sweat. His valet worked silently as he finished dressing the prince, tying the last of few laces on a deep blue doublet made of velvet, taking care not to make them too tight. In the reflection he caught his mother looking in at the door, dressed elegantly in an emerald green gown, the royal crown perched atop her lovely head as the gold and rubies adorning it glinted in the candlelight.

"How I love that color on you, dear," the queen remarked as she entered his chambers. "Are you ready to be fawned over tonight, my prince?"

"The closer the hour gets, the more daunting the task seems to become," Harry answered truthfully, pulling at the collar of his shirt.

"You must not bristle beneath the attention," Lily warned, thanking the valet as he bowed and excused himself. She reached up to readjust his collar, her eyes brimming as she stroked his cheek. "You must forgive me, I am overcome with a memory. One of a small boy, zooming through the hallways of our home, riding on a little boom. . . It seems only yesterday you were hiding behind my leg at the prospect of meeting strangers, and now here you are . . . a man fully grown."

"Mother," Harry chided, placing a hand over hers, "you act as if I'm bound to go away forever."

The queen shook her head. "I am too sentimental for such a night. Are you ready to face the crowd?"

"As ready as I would ever hope to be," he answered, offering his arm as led them out of the chambers.

They were met by his father and Draco as they made their descent towards the Great Hall, the sounds of music and merriment growing louder and louder as they drew closer. They emerged into an antechamber, assembling around a roaring fire.

Handing him a goblet of wine, Draco leaned in, whispering to Harry. "You mustn't take all the good ones for yourself. Leave some for your dear stepbrother to have."

"Draco!" scolded Lily from the chaise lounge, turning to glare at him while the James chuckled beside her.

"Do you remember when we were children," the prince murmured back, "and you had just arrived at our castle?"

"Yes," Draco's eyes lowered as the memory came back to him, suddenly finding the goblet more interesting than the conversation.

"You were a vicious little snipe of a child, snapping at anyone who dared speak to you. Do you remember the day I challenged you to a game of Quidditch?"

A slow smile broke his friend's face. "Of course. . ."

"And, even though you'd lost miserably, that day you resolved that, until you won, you would challenge me time and again whenever the occasion arose?"

Draco scoffed, gulping down some wine. "You need not say any more, dear brother. Fate will decide the victor, though I promise a good fight."

"I sincerely hope your pride is not too wounded after a night like tonight." They clinked their goblets together, downing the rest of the wine as they chuckled at one another. Unseen behind them, James and Lily shared a fond smile.

A few moments later, a servant entered the chamber, signaling that it was time to be introduced. James clapped the shoulder of his son as he and Lily were escorted away, affording Harry and Draco one more quick swig of wine as the herald introduced the king and queen. The servant came back for Draco, who left smirking back at his friend.

"My dear friends and honored guests," boomed the voice of his father, "it gives the royal family great pleasure to introduce our son and guest of honor, Prince Harry James!"

As Harry entered the Great Hall, he was met by a uniform bow of the crowd, followed by a round of applause as he returned the courtesy to his subjects. A sea of masks peered back at him, the ladies fans in a flutter as they murmured amongst themselves.

With all the grand decorations, the Great Hall was nearly unrecognizable. Rich fabrics and colorful tapestries hung on the walls. Chandeliers laden with dozens of candles floated lazily in the air; a single table set beside the wall was laden with everything from sweets to the largest roasted pig he had ever seen. On a recently conjured stage played a band, wearing uniformed bauta masks of white, giving off a nearly eerie feeling. He looked to his family, seeing that they, too, had been given masks for the occasion. He joined his family, leaning an arm across the top of his mother's throne.

"You must dance, Harry," Lily said while she held a golden stick mask. "Before you know it the ladies will begin to rush us, I can feel the excitement from here."

"Unless, of course, you'd like to me take the first dance?" Draco asked, donning a columbina mask that gave him a rather roguish look.

"And let you scare them off?" Harry answered. "Never."

And so it began. The herald unrolled the longest piece of parchment Harry had ever seen, announcing each woman as she took her turn to dance with him. Many of them spoke very quickly, trying to divulge as much information as possible on what he liked and disliked; others could hardly speak at all, afraid to meet his eyes as he instead asked them questions. A few of them were quite brash, flirting in the most unapologetic as they fluttered their lashes behind masks and makeups, their bosoms displaying with pride. One witch was rather well endowed, making Harry blush as he watched them nearly spill out of her dress. And she was rather forward with him, despite being many years his senior. Needless to say, he was not heartbroken to see her off.

"Lady Pansy Sinistra," the royal servant announced next, "daughter of Baroness Aurora Sinistra."

A thin, waifish woman stepped forward, shoving her mask into the hands of the next girl in line. Harry tried to quell any ill thoughts entering his mind as he took her hand and bowed, choosing not to kiss it like he had with others. Her eyelashes were fluttering so rapidly he thought that she may have something in her eye and voiced his concerns.

"N-no, your highness," she answered, looking disappointed. "I am quite well."

As they took part in the next round of dancing, he found himself counting the steps of the dance rather than remaining in tune to the conversation. He made up for it with a lot of "hmm's" and nodding, releasing a sigh of relief as she walked away, unknowing of the glare she cast over her shoulder as, "Lady Millicent Sinistra, daughter of Baroness Aurora Sinistra" took her place, who turned out to be a rather large and formidable looking woman.

"Lovely weather we're having, milord," she murmured, unknowingly crushing his foot during one pass.

"Why yes it is," he answered through gritted teeth. "Quite agreeable."

Once the was dance finished, he hastily bowed, excused himself and rejoined his mother, slouching onto his own throne with a groan.

"I presume that to be no good news," Lily told him. "However, I must say, I was rather entertained when Lady Rosemerta got her hands on you. She is by no means a typical woman, but she sure makes for fun parties."

As Harry hid his face in his hand, a blush crept up his neck, unbidden. His shoulders began shaking from suppressed laughter. "This is completely mad," he said after he'd regain his composure. "She's out there somewhere . . . but she may not be at this party."

"Do not let your father hear you say that," Lily whispered as she watched the king converse with his childhood friend Sirius. "Have faith, my son."

* * *

Ginevra landed the broom near the edge of the Dark Forest, taking special care to smooth her gown as she eased her nerves. After stowing the broom in the shadows, she found a pathway that led up to the castle.

Emerging into the viaduct courtyard, she took in the sight of a crowd of witches and wizards gathered. They wore the finest robes and gowns money could buy, laughing and chatting amongst themselves as they drank wine and watched a show put on by twin court jesters. The two laughed uproariously at one another, somehow managing a juggling act, the launching fireworks and an endless stream of jokes. She watched for a moment, unaware of the stares and murmurs of her peers as she turned about to enter the castle.

Her jaw dropped as she took in the sight of the Entrance Hall. A vast marble staircase was the centerpiece of it all, hundreds of floating candles casting a romantic glow in the air. Two men stood guarding the massive doors of the Great Hall, surprising her by bowing before she swung open the doors, revealing the wonderful sight inside.

Beautifully dressed women danced with handsomely dressed men, masks of every shape, size and color adorning their faces. The decorations were the finest she'd ever seen in her young life. She stared in wonder up at the enchanted ceiling, finding stars twinkling down at her rather than the expected supportive beams. She was even sure saw a shooting star race across, silently thanking her godmother once more to be able to set her eyes on such a sight.

Unbeknownst to her, a group of men had begun to gather around her. A man gently tapped her shoulder as she gazed up, startling her. She curtsied, wobbling slightly on shaking legs as the man bowed in return, an appreciative smile widening his mouth beneath an intricately designed mask.

"Madam, would you be so kind as to permit me to be your dance partner?"

"O-of course," she answered, taking his offered hand. "I must tell you, sir, that I am unfamiliar with this particular dance."

"Then we shall learn it together."

The dance turned out to be a lot more complicated than she had anticipated. Through mutual nervousness, their eyes remained trained on their feet rather than each other as they wove through fellow dance partners. She nearly collided with someone as the dance neared the end, blushing furiously when she caught the eye of the queen. She excused herself from the lord as quickly as possible, moving to the banquet table in search of a goblet of wine to quell her nerves. Across the table she spotted her step-family. Pansy was complaining to her mother about "not getting enough time with the prince!" Careful to avoid any make eye contact, she made to move to the other side of the room. When she felt another tap on the shoulder she could not help the small sigh of defeat that left her, assuming the lord had followed her. She turned, a refusal on the tip of her tongue, only to meet eyes with the prince. He wore a benign smile as he gazed down at her, inclining his head to take her hand and kiss it. She felt as if her heart were melting like the wax of a candle as she stared back, afraid that this was all some sort of hallucination.

"My lady, may I welcome you to our fine masque. And may you permit me to compliment your fine cloth. I believe every lady attending this ball is jealous."

"A-and how have you come to that conclusion, your highness?" she asked, willing her heartbeat to slow down in it's fluttering. "Because I have stolen your attention?"

"Because, like mine, their eyes have not left the sight of you since your arrival."

"You flatter me so," she answered with a lower of her lashes.

"I only speak the truth," he replied, still holding her hand in his. "Would you allow me the pleasure of a dance?"

"I'm not very skilled at it, your highness."

"Then you have stumbled upon some luck," he led them to the center of the floor, the dancers bowing as they cleared the space. "Though I hardly claim myself an accomplished dancer, I do not believe that anyone will be paying attention to our feet. You must forgive the impropriety of keeping you close; I fear I must keep you safe from the wolves."

"The prince may do as he wishes," she answered, feeling a warmth spread across her cheeks.

She felt as if they were gliding on air as they swept across the dance floor, his eyes never leaving hers as he led her easily and effortlessly. The world seemed to fall away, all her worries forgotten as she met the gaze of those beautiful emerald eyes.

"Forgive me, but have we met before?" he asked.

"N-no, your highness," she quickly lied.

"It's just . . . you seem so familiar," he continued. "Are you new to court?"

"You could say that, highness-"

"Please," he interrupted gently, "if you'd be so kind as to call me Harry, if only for tonight."

"H-Harry," she ventured, blushing. "The news of this ball spread far and wide, even beyond the realm. I've traveled a long way to enjoy such a night."

"I am ever so grateful that you did."

Much too soon, the song came to an end, but the prince drew her even closer, leaning down to whisper in her ear. "Would you be so kind as to join me on an excursion? I am in need of some fresh air."

Ginevra wished this night never to end as they walked the seemingly endless hallways, making use of the moving staircases as they went. It seemed easy to forget everything while she was in his company, forget that dirty, shabby servant girl Ginny behind and become Ginevra, the woman who had somehow, unwittingly caught the attention of noble Prince Harry James Potter. All the while their conversation never seemed to meet an end, flowing easily from one subject to another. The portraits adorning the walls murmured their greetings as they passed by, and she could have sworn she heard creaking movement of a suit of armor placed at the top landing of the uppermost staircase. He led her up one last circular staircase, emerging onto the rooftop of a high tower. Her mouth dropped open as she took in the sight of the heavens above and the realm below, the Great Lake to the south and the whole of the village Hogsmeade to the east.

"I often come here to be alone," the prince said quietly, leaning a hand on the parapet.

"How special it is that you deem me worthy enough to share your place of solitude."

"No, no," he corrected her with a smile, "it is I who has been blessed with enough luck to gain your attention."

She noticed a racing broom leaning against the wall near a telescope. Unable to help herself, she ran a hand along it's handle.

"Do enjoy watching Quidditch?" he asked once he realized what she was doing.

"Very much," she answered with a smile. "When I was young, my father would bring me and my brother to as many matches as he could. I remember being so envious of men when I was a child, I could never understand why they were permitted to fly and do as they pleased while I was locked away inside with nothing to do but learn needlework and bake breads. This was especially true when I watched the king fly. He seemed to do so with hardly any effort."

"I shall pretend my ego was not just wounded," the prince chuckled, "for I am curious about your admission of envy. Prey tell, did your father teach you how to fly a broom?"

"Not exactly, Harry," she blushed. "Rather, I stubbornly learned on my own, though I gleaned a little reluctant help from my brother. I would steal my father's broom and sneak away into the orchard. Eventually my father bought me one of my own."

"Your father must be quite the man to have raised someone like you."

"He was," she placed a hand over her heart. "Sometimes I dream of hearing his laughter, of seeing his wonderful smile once more. I miss him more than anything in the world."

"I'm sorry to hear he is no longer among us." Harry took a step closer, using a finger to lift her chin. "Forgive me if I offended you."

"There is nothing to forgive," she answered breathlessly. Her heart began to race as she stared into those eyes, feeling as if they were dark hooks that had latched onto her soul. His hand slid across her lower back, igniting the skin beneath with sudden warmth as he drew her close, his lips pressing against hers in a tender kiss. Her hands snaked up his chest, grasping lightly around his neck as the world began to spin-

 _Ding! Ding! Ding!_

She jumped as the sound of ringing bells filled the air, startling the prince. "What's the matter?" he asked dreamily, the back of his hand stroking her cheek.

"It's midnight," she gasped.

"So it is," he answered, his brow furrowing.

She gathered up her dress, retreating. "I must leave."

"Wait! I haven't even learned your name! How will I find you?"

"I'm sorry, my prince, I've run out of time," was all she could say as she tore down the stairwell.

"Please don't go," he pleaded, following her. "I must know your name!"

Sending a prayer of apology to her godmother, she put her lips together and whistled as hard as she could, the sound echoing up the tower as the prince gave chase. Emerging into the hallway, she watched the broom as it flew through an open window and turned toward her at a rapid pace.

Harry gaped as she caught it deftly in her hand, mounting it quickly. She looked back at him one last time. "Thank you for such a wonderful night. You must not follow me, I beg you. Farewell, dear prince."

She lifted off, zooming out of the window and into the night. She was unable to tear her eyes away as he stared after her, a bemused mix of wonder and sadness on his face as she flew away.

Once she had flown to the outskirts of the village and was at a safe distance from any houses, she landed the broom in the shadow of a willow tree, dismayed to discover the fabric of her dress was changing back to the torn state of her mother's wedding dress. Her hair fell limply on her shoulders as the tiara disappeared in a puff of gold dust, the mask quickly following suit. The broom was the last to go.

Sighing at the thought of a long walk home in nearly bare feet, she was surprised to find one glass slipper still attached. In awe of her souvenir, she leant down and pulled it off, holding it close as she looked up to the heavens.

"Thank you," she whispered in the night. "Thank you for everything."


	5. Chapter Five: A Heart's Desire Fulfilled

**Chapter Five: A Heart's Desire Fulfilled**

At the sound of the front door opening, Hermione nearly dropped the book she held as she sat in the library, sharing a look with Minerva before hurrying to shove it back in it's place on the shelf. The two had shared fearful thoughts of Ginevra's prolonged absence. Had she been recognized? Had she been injured on the journey? The other woman hot on her heels, she raced down the stairs, dissatisfied to find their mistresses instead of their dear friend.

"The nerve of her!" Pansy snarled as she blindly threw her robe at Hermione.

"I wish I could have hexed her," Millicent pouted, following suit.

"She did indeed look familiar," Aurora lamented, peeling off her gloves and giving them Minerva.

"You swear you've never seen her before?" Pansy snapped as she rounded on her mother. "Your absolutely certain that we do not know her?"

"I know of every lady within this realm, child," Aurora replied angrily. "Be grateful that the prince returned to the ball empty handed!"

"It isn't fair!" Pansy wailed. "I didn't even get enough time with him! All of those other hags took much longer than I!"

"Then you should have used it more wisely," Aurora answered, beginning her climb of the stairs. "We will be lucky if Lord Draco comes

to call, unless you found a way to ruin that chance as well!"

Hermione and Minerva exchanged a smile behind their backs as they followed, silently thanking this mysterious maiden for stealing the attention of the prince. While it did nothing to ease their worries of Ginevra and this new development would make their lives miserable for the next few days, seeing them fail to sink their claws in a royal was a small payoff.

* * *

When Ginevra awoke the next morning, she groggily struggled to remember how she had ended up in the loft of the barn the night before. She sank back into a pile of hay straw as the memories flooded back, her head pounding in protest of the movement.

Tonks. The dress. The castle. _The prince_ , she thought fondly, a smile easily spreading her lips. The way he looked at her made her feel as if she was the only woman standing in that vast hall. The way he kissed her seemed to light up her body with this strange, addictive, and unknown energy. The way she felt after so little time with one person startled her, for it was an emotion so foreign. Even though she knew it was a ridiculous thought, she admitted to herself the wish of wanting to see him again. Even if it were from a distance, surely it would quell the raging within her heart, if only for a moment.

"Ginny!" came a fierce whisper. "Ginny, are you in here?"

She crawled up onto her knees, ignoring the pain in her head and the ache in her feet as she moved to the edge of the floor, peeking down to see her brother peering up at her.

"There you are!" he said in hushed tones, relief flooding his face as he removed his hat. "Remus and I have been looking everywhere for you! We feared you were lost . . . or worse. . . But then I remembered how you liked to hide here when we were young, and here you are!"

"I am safe and have returned whole, brother mine," she called back. "The sun continues to rise in the east and it is a wonderful day!"

He laughed. "Tis a good thing your brother knows you so well. Hermione might not be as lenient. She has been pacing a hole into the floor all morning."

"I know I have much explaining to do," she agreed, "so go and fetch me a robe so that I may return to the house without raising any suspicion."

As she waited she got a good look at her dress, wincing at the sight of it. Large holes had been ripped into the lace overlay, the hemline of the collar severely stretched. She was extremely relieved when her brother returned, taking care to wrap the robe tightly around herself so that he would not see. She would still keep the dress. Hopefully one day she could take it to get fixed somewhere. When her brother returned her to the chateau, she found Hermione anxiously waiting for her in the kitchen. Promising to fill him in on the details later in the day, she bid him a farewell.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Ginevra moved quickly over to where Hermione stood. "What did you tell stepmother?" she whispered before any more words could be spoken.

"I told her you had fallen ill and thought it would be better to work outside with your brother and Remus rather than infect them," Hermione said rapidly, picking a piece of straw from the other girls hair. "You should remain out of sight for the remainder of the day."

Sagging in relief, she leaned against the prepping table. "How ever shall I repay you?"

Hermione's lips thinned as a hand rested on her hip, her foot tapping impatiently. "Are you going to tell me what happened last night? We were worried sick when you did not return before your step family. I thought you had been discovered! I thought you'd gotten hurt! I thought -"

"I'm fine, Hermione, I promise you," Ginevra laughed. "You shall get your explanation, but you'll have to get your story while I take a bath."

Later on, Ginevra sank happily into the warm steaming water of the bath as Hermione kept a vigil at the window, nervous of the family returning from their afternoon excursions early.

As she explained the details of her night, she felt odd omitting or changing the story where Tonks was involved. She didn't feel it was right to divulge the truth about her fairy godmother, even if she still struggled to believe it had really happened. She would tell her friend one day, but she was still reluctant to let go of the illusion.

"Is it really true, Ginny?" Hermione sighed after she had finished her story. "Is he really that charming in person?"

"Is it that hard to believe?" asked Ginevra, lifting her head off the backrest of the tub to look at her friend. "Are you truly that skeptical about everything?"

"Can you blame me?" Hermione asked. "It almost sounds _too_ wonderful."

"Yes," she agreed, "it does."

Hardly anyone saw Prince Harry for the next few days. He remained confined to his quarters, only to be seen by his servants when they brought trays of food to him. The only company he preferred to keep was with a single glass slipper. At a total loss as for what to do, his mood quickly grew dark. He'd taken to using spells to lock and silence his doors since the queen had become worried and began to hover over him, despite his wish to be left alone.

Draco caught sight of the queen mother as she paced in front of the door leading into Harry's chambers. He snuck up on her, leaning against the wall. "Trying to wear a new passage into the floor, mother?"

"Do not tease me, Draco," the queen said, crossing her arms as she glared at the door. "He cannot stay hidden away forever."

"You know how he is," Draco said, examining his nails. "The noble, yet sometimes brooding Prince Harry."

She sighed, temporarily resigned. "Come and keep me company. I shall tell you a story."

She led him to the library, seating him in a high backed chair, facing of the hearth of a large and roaring fire. Eyes twinkling, she settled herself into the seat beside him.

"A story, mother?"

"Of a boy who came to live in this castle nearly ten years ago," said Lily. "He was a difficult boy; floundering. Once the son of a powerful Lord, he had become an orphan, losing everything he knew to a great and terrible war. While he was sometimes a sweet boy to me, he raged against everyone else that dared get near him."

"Mother- "

"Please let me finish," she said gently, laying a hand over his. "I'll get to the point soon enough."

Nodding, he sunk back further into the chair.

"This boy and my son were of the same age, though in the beginning they fought fiercely and seemingly endlessly with one another. Until one day when a simple game played on brooms changed that." She smiled. "The two became the best and most competitive of friends. . .

"And then one day, my son wandered off into the Dark Forest. Fearing the worst, the king and I sent out a search party to comb the area in which he was last seen. Sensing my distress, the boy snuck out from under my nose and entered the forest, finding the prince within an hour and leading him back to safety. Though you were both filthy, no harm had come to you. 'Don't be sad anymore, mother.

"'I've found Harry!' Your face lit up when you said it, the first time I'd ever seen you smile. And the first time you had ever called me mother. That very day I knew. You may not be my son by blood, but you were destined to be a part of my family. You watched over the prince, and though sometimes you were rather rough with your words, your intentions would always come from the best part of your heart. . . I need you to help your brother again, Draco."

"You suggest that I give him the ugly gift of the truth mother?" Draco asked, smriking. "That, even if it comes to it, I hex that door off of it's hinges?"

"A mother would never say such things," Lily chided, stroking his cheek. "I only ask that you speak with him, what you decided to say is neither here nor there. Go and be a brother."

Feigning an exasperated sigh, he rose from the chair, laying a kiss against her forehead before he strode back to Harry's chambers.

* * *

Startled, Harry rounded away from his window as the door of the chamber burst open, bouncing on it's hinges as his friend strode in, tucking his wand back into the holster at his waist.

" _What_ exactly do you think you are do -?"

"Giving you an overdue dose of reality," Draco cut in smoothly, taking a seat at the Prince's writing desk. "Where is it?"

"Why do you care? Do you wish to tease me further on how I keep a woman's slipper?"

"No," Draco answered with a straight face, "not today. I'm here on a request. Believe me, if it were up to me I'd leave you here to rot."

"I know they think I'm being foolish but I cannot help myself," the prince groaned, running his hands along his face as he leaned against the window. "How am I supposed to find her? The realm is so vast and she told me herself that she traveled a long way."

"Who would've thought that the cause of noble Prince Harry's undoing would be love sickness?"

Harry sank down onto the mattress, head hanging, a small smile upon his lips. "It all seems rather silly, doesn't it?"

"Well then what are you going to do about it?" He watched as a blonde eyebrow arched.

"What do you mean?"

"What will you do?" Draco said slowly, emphasizing each word. "Shutting yourself in here will do nothing but upset your mother more. If you continue to make her upset I might have to raise an angry hand, which would displease _both_ of our parents."

"What can I do? I didn't even learn her name."

"I see that you are not catching on as quickly as I'd hoped," said Draco. "Why don't you start looking for her, Harry?"

"Do you know how many maids with red hair are within this realm? And furthermore the spells that they can do to change the appearance of their hair?"

Draco held the slipper up to the light, turning it as he watched the sparkles dance across the room. "But she cannot cast a spell to change her feet."

* * *

"Sirius, please tell me that I have not lost control of my senses," James said as his friend poured him another goblet of wine. Lying open before him was a letter that, at this very moment, was being sent out to the entire realm.

They had resigned to his private chambers with as much wine as Lily would allow them. Their cheeks began to turn red from the drink, but that had not swayed them from consuming more. The king was most troubled, and, as Sirius liked to fondly remind him, wine was the temporary cure for everything.

"He is in love," Sirius said simply.

"I think he is foolish," James shook his head. "Do you know how long it would take to try the slipper on every maiden in this realm?"

"I remember not long ago how you would do anything to gain the affections of a certain maid," Sirius said knowingly.

"Surely you jest, this is not the same!"

"His feelings seem to be. Let him do what he thinks is right. A man in love will find any means necessary to achieve his goal."

* * *

The sudden shriek of delight seemed to shake the whole of the house, causing Minerva to drop the basket of rolls she carried. "By God the frequent displays of delight our lovely mistresses give will one day be the end of me. I am becoming far too old for this."

"But not too old for this," Ginevra answered, sweeping the rolls back into the basket and placing them on the serving tray, making the older woman laugh.

Ronald burst in the door, Remus hot on his heels. "What on earth is going on? Is somebody being murdered?"

"If only it were so," said Hermione from the hearth as she stirred a stew.

" _Hermione_!"

"Perhaps grievously maimed?" she offered instead, making them all chuckle.

"Pray for me that I may come back alive," Ginevra said as she ascended the stairs.

She made quick work of setting out breakfast,

"Merlin had looked down upon us in favor," Pansy was saying, bouncing in her seat with delight.

"It seems you have another chance to impress our dear prince," Aurora said, the morning's post in hand. "We must start preparations immediately. And you- " she shot at Ginevra as she poured her a goblet of water " -gather the staff and get started on the cleaning. I want every last inch of this home spotless before the prince arrives."

"The prince. . .?" Water began to overflow the goblet, onto the table and spilling into the lap of her stepmother.

Aurora gasped, grasping the girls wrist tightly in her hand. "Just look at what you've done!"

"I- I'm sorry, stepmother, I d -didn't mean- "

"I think she did it on purpose," said Pansy, smiling behind her goblet while Millicent nodded in agreement.

"What on earth is wrong with you?" Aurora said, yanking her closer. "These last few days you've lost what little sense you had in that ridiculous head of yours. Sick the day after the ball? Spilling water onto my expensive cloth? Seems rather a mystery, don't you think?"

"No, mistress," Ginevra answered, willing her heart so slow it's pace. "It was er simply a stroke of bad luck."

"I don't believe you," Aurora said, her eyes full of poison. "I think that you are hiding something from me." She pulled at a lock of

Ginevra's hair as she shook her head. The girl watched as her eyes clouded before she roughly shoved her away. "Out of my sight."

Shaken, Ginevra did as told, hurrying back into the kitchens. Absently setting the tray back onto the prepping table, she sank into a chair.

"What's the matter, child?" Minerva asked, rushing forward to feel her forehead. "Are you all right?"

"I -I'm fine," Ginevra answered, shaking her head. "Do not worry about me. Stepmother orders that we clean the house."

" _Again_?" asked Hermione, aghast. "As if we don't have enough chores already!"

"The prince will soon be here," Ginevra answered flatly.

As the two of them began to smile, she gravely shook her head. "I think she knows."

* * *

Ginevra was careful to stay out of her stepmother's sight the next few days as they cleaned the house floor to ceiling. She traded duties with Hermione, instead doing the cooking rather than the serving; in exchange for helping with the dressing she traded with Minerva and did the laundry. Between that and all the scrubbing her elbows and knees were beginning to feel extremely sore. The few times she did catch sight of her stepmother, she caught her glaring at her with more malice than she usually did. It frightened her when she got that look. The last time she had seen it, Hermione ended up with the ugly scars she now wore across her shoulders and back.

When the last day of the search arrived, Pansy had fallen into a panic. Out of money for a new dress to wear for the prince, she'd torn through and tried on every single one that would fit within the house, yielding no satisfying results.

"I want something fit for a queen!" she railed at her mother, putting all of them on edge.

That was when Hermione came rushing into the kitchen, her face as white as a ghost.

"What is it?" Ginevra hissed, but could not get her answer before Hermione was shoved out of the way, Aurora charging into the room with Pansy and Millicent right behind her. She cornered Ginevra, roughly seizing her shoulder and shoving her down into a chair. "Stepmother -?"

"Where is it?" Aurora snapped, her wand held in her fist.

"W- where is what, madam?" Shaking with fear, she saw the eyes of Hermione and Minerva clutching each other, mirroring the emotion.

" _Where is the dress_?" Aurora snarled. "The entire of your mother's dowry is missing! I locked it up myself, it was in my chambers and now it's gone. _WHERE IS IT_?"

Taking a deep breath, she felt as if something inside of her snapped. All at once, every memory of mistreatment against her, Ronald, and her friends came rushing back to her. Every unkind word and moment of injustice played through her mind at rapid pace, her vision darkening with the coming rage. A roaring seemed to fill her ears, the hairs on her arms standing on end; any and all fear she felt earlier was swept from her mind as she pushed her stepmother back, rising from the chair with her fists clenched at her sides.

"What matter is it to you?"

Aurora blanched. "What matters is that it was you who stole them from me."

" _They aren't yours_!" Ginevra roared back, advancing on her stepmother. "Those were my mother's things, even if I did know where they were do you think I would give them to _you_? Tell the truth, stepmother. Does it bother you more that I will not give them freely or that I am competition?"

"How dare you speak to me like that!"

"How _dare_ I? You've ruined our father's home, destroyed the last precious memories of him, and forced us to work as servants when we are your _stepchildren_ \- we have done _everything_ you've asked and yet you still deny us! You are the only family we have left and _still_ you've treated us this way! Without so much as a kind word, or a -!"

"How can anyone love a child like you," Aurora's chin lifted in defiance. "You are the very thorn in my side. Now, you hand over that dowry or- "

"I would rather be lashed a thousand times before I see my mother's dress on _THAT SPOILED, SELFISH HAG_!"

Pansy flinched as if she'd been hit. Millicent's face was the color of a plum. Hermione and Minerva were paper white, hands over their mouths in fear for their dear friend. Ginevra stood toe to toe with Aurora, shaking from head to toe with her anger.

But it was Aurora who moved first.

" _STUPEFY_!"

Hermione and Minerva could only watch in horror as Aurora hexed Ginevra, her body falling to the floor in a heap. Eerily calm, she murmured a spell, sending her prone form down into the basement, locking and silencing the door.

She rounded on them, aiming her wand. "If either one of you so much as thinks of touching that door you will wish you'd never been born."

* * *

As the carriage neared the last few houses on the edge of the realm, Harry could not help but roughly rub his eyes, his headache pounding mercilessly behind them. For the last two days he and Draco had visited every home of nobles that had attended the ball, trying the glass slipper on every maiden and even her servants, only to come up empty.

"These are the last names on the list, milord," the servant accompanying told him. "Sir Fletcher has no daughters to our knowledge, and the other home belongs to Baroness Aurora Sinistra and her two daughters. We believe she may have a handful of hand maidens."

"Then she must be here," said Draco matter- of- factly. "Even if she was only visiting, it would still take a few days to make the arrangements to return home, wherever that may be."

"I'm not very confident about it," Harry admitted as they slowed to a stop in front of Sir Fletcher's home. "I have resigned to the truth. She is no longer here."

The servant jumped out of the carriage at once, the sounds of a fanfare filling the air. Harry bit back a groan, watching the exchange with Sir Fletcher with no interest. Unable to control himself, he slammed a fist down when the man shook his head.

"Be calm, dear brother," said Draco. "Even if she is not here, the Baroness must know from whence she came. That woman and her daughters have their nose in all of the goings on at court. I'm sure she has one of her little birds somewhere. We need only persuade her." He padded the sack of gold in his pocket for emphasis.

Harry's mood became worse in the short ride from Sir Fletcher's to the Baroness' home. The Baroness and her two daughters were already waiting for them when they arrived. Anxious to be done with the day, Harry carefully placed the maiden's slipper in his pocket, following Draco out of the carriage.

"Your majesty," the ladies said as they curtsied in unison.

"Ladies," Draco answered, bowing in return. He turned on the charm of his smile as they were ushered into the home, causing Harry to roll his eyes behind his back.

They were led into the family gathering hall. Refusing the offer of wine or food, Harry was ready to get straight to business.

"The request is simple madam," he said to the baroness. "I will try the slipper on each of your daughters and the ladies maids you have working in the home."

"Your majesty," said the baroness hesitantly, "I assure you that we three were the only ones from the house in attendance."

"Then it should be easy to eliminate them as the maid we are looking for," Draco said smoothly, flashing them a handsome smile.

"Surely you have no problem in humoring us."

"O- of course not," Aurora stuttered. "Millicent, retrieve the ladies at once."

"Me?"

"Yes, you," Pansy snapped in a whisper.

Draco's smile faltered as he cleared his throat.

* * *

By the time Ginvera came to, her head felt fit to burst, her body completely wracked with aches and soreness. It was dark, thought she could barely make the outline of some crates in the corner. _The basement_.

She flinched as she remembered the angry flash of red light before she was cast into darkness. Groaning as her body protested the movement, she raised herself onto shaky legs, stumbling as she made her way to the steps, crawling up on all fours. She was filled with dismay when the handle didn't budge. She broke into a sweat as she tried to use her shoulder to push it open, but to no avail. With all the strength left in her she began to bang on the door, yelling for help to anyone that would pass by. She eventually succumbed to the exhaustion, sinking down onto the steps.

Directly above her she heard the distant sound of fanfare, tears springing into her eyes.

The prince was so close, yet so far out of reach. Her heart ached painfully in her chest, the weight in her stomach becoming heavier than before. She was completely overwhelmed, the desire to see him becoming too much.

"Please!" she yelled, tears streaking down her face. "You cannot do this! Let me out, PLEASE!"

* * *

"Madam, I beg you," Harry said sharply, reaching a hand out for the slipper, "please be careful!"

"My feet have just been swollen, majesty," Pansy said through gritted teeth, shoving the ill fitting slipper onto her much larger foot. "All that wonderful dancing. I -It has to fit!" She forced calm. "It _has_ to."

Beside him he saw Draco's shoulders shake with suppressed laughter, turning to glare at him. " _Will you please stop_ ," he whispered, wondering why the idiot found this so funny.

As she slipped the shoe from her foot to have a go at a better angle, he used his seeker reflexes, snatching it back. "I think that we should continue with the staff, if you'd be so kind, baroness."

Offering a hand to help her up from the seat, Draco looked as if he was fit to burst with laughter at any moment, his face angled away from her as he led her over to the chaise where her mother and Millicent waited.

Taking a deep breath to regain his composure, Harry fixed a smile on his face, turning to the maiden with wild hair and the older woman. The maiden hesitated when he indicated that she sit, making his heart skip a beat. Could this be her?

"Madam, please," he implored.

Her eyes shifting nervously to her mistress, the girl complied. As gentle as he could, he slid off her tattered slipper and traded it for the other, surprisingly numb to find out that it did not fit.

"I think we both know that it is not I you seek," the older woman said when the maid rejoined her. He would have laughed had it not been so heartbreaking.

Harry stood, noticing the hard stare of the baroness to her servants, feeling some sort of unspoken threat between them.

"I thank you ladies for your time," he said hollowly. "I wish you all a good day, and must bid you farewell."

"You majesty is most welcome to join us for lunch," Aurora began, reaching a hand out to him.

"I must decline," Harry cut in, moving out of the hall and towards the double doors. "Good day."

Draco murmured an apology and goodbye, quickly following suit. When he entered the carriage behind his brother, he kept the good sense of remaining quiet.

Harry didn't know how to feel as the carriage began to drive off. He felt as if his heart had sunk to the pit of his stomach, mixing in with the acid as it was eaten away. His head throbbed painfully, his hands shook. He had the vicious urge to punch a hole through the wall of the carriage. He leg bobbed in a rapid pace, his nostrils flaring as he glared unseeing into the forest that lay before him.

The sudden jolting halt of the carriage startled the both of them, each drawing their wands. Sharing a look, they simultaneously drew the curtains of the windows closed. Feeling his pulse quicken, Harry placed a hand on the handle of the door.

"Magnus," Draco called, "why have we stopped?"

When they were greeted with no answer, Harry raised three fingers, counting down silently. _Three, two, one_ -

"I don't think it prudent to hex a lady when you haven't even been properly introduced."

The curtain flew back, wands flying out of their hands as they both reared back. The oddest looking woman grinned at them from the

other side of the door, waving their wands back and forth. "Gentleman, there is no cause for alarm."

"What if I said that to you wearing hair as purple as table grapes?" Draco asked, his hands held up in surrender.

"Touché," she answered, opening the door to reveal herself. "There is no need to fear, I mean no harm to you. I've only put your driver and your servant to sleep."

"Why do you have _wings_?" said Draco, unmoving. "Are you a fairy like the kind we string on our tree at Christmas?"

She glared at him, her hair turning into a shade of angry red. "I find that insulting. I am not like those fairies. They are vain, stupid creatures."

"Oh, an elitist, then. Good."

Sighing as her hair returned to it's original color, the woman turned to Harry. "Is he always like this?"

"Always," Harry answered automatically. "What do you want with us?"

"I'm here on behalf of another," the woman said, tossing them back their wands. "My name is Tonks."

The shared a look, hardly believing the situation.

"I'm Draco," the blonde stuttered, "and this is prince -"

"Harry, I know," she cut in. "You must return to that chateau, prince Harry. You did not try that slipper on every maiden that lives within that residence."

"Madam, there are only three," Harry said impatiently. "Ladies Pansy, Millicent and the handmaiden- "

"How did you know about the slipper?" Draco asked with narrowed eyes.

Tonks leaned her head into the carriage, her eyes boring into Harry's. "Think, prince. Did that home not look familiar from the outside? Would it help if you looked upon the water well?"

"No, I . . ."

He trailed off, a memory flooding his mind. The fiery redhead that served them water. That same girl in the Quidditch shop trying to purchase a broom. The beautiful redhead he had spent a magical evening with.

"It couldn't be true?" he asked her sharply.

"Why not see with your own eyes?" The corner of her mouth turned up in a smile.

Checking that the slipper was secure in his pocket, he rushed out past her, ignoring Draco's call, running at breakneck speed back towards the manner. How foolish he had been, too caught up in his own feelings to inquire deeper about anyone else in the house. One thought and one thought alone rang in his mind: he had to see that maiden with his own eyes. Nothing else mattered.

When he pulled the rope to ring the bell above the house, he felt like he was going to explode when no one immediately answered. He rang the bell again with much more force, Draco huffing as he caught up to him.

"Are you mad?" he asked with labored breath. "Since when do you believe the tales of a total stranger "

" _Think_!" Harry said, shaking his brother's shoulders. "Do you not see the resemblance between the redhead at the ball and the one that put you in your place mere days ago? 'Tis so much more simple than we thought!"

The door had swung open, revealing the surprised face of Aurora. "Your majesty -"

"Did we have an audience with all of the ladies in the house?"

"Think carefully about your answer, madam," Draco warned when she hesitated. He straightened up to his full height, a hand on his waist.

"M- Majesty," she began, wringing her hands.

"If you have nothing to hide then it should be no trouble if we look again, madam," Harry said logically, sweeping past her into the house, brushing past Pansy and Millicent, ignoring their calls to him.

He found the stairwell, tearing down into the kitchen, scaring the wits out of the maiden and the older woman as they hovered around the doors to the basement in whispered conversation.

"I'm so sorry," he said, a hand held up in surrender. "I must ask you . . . is there another maiden who lives and works here?"

Draco, Aurora, Pansy, and Millicent rushed in behind him, the three women talking all at once.

Losing his patience, Harry rounded on the baroness. "If there is another here, I demand to know where she is," he said through gritted teeth.

"Majesty, there is no one!" Pansy said shrilly, hiding behind her mother.

"I warn you," Draco said, deadly calm, "it is a crime to impede royalty, Lady Pansy."

Harry felt a touch on his shoulder, turning around meet the eyes of the wild haired maiden.

"Majesty," she said in a small voice, "there is."

* * *

It seemed an eternity had passed by in the dark, especially when left alone with only ones thoughts. What would her stepmother do to her? Would she ship her off to the Americas like the rest of the indentured servants? Would she cast her out in into the street and make her homeless?

A sudden flash of light blinding her, Ginevra shielded her eyes as the doors to the basement flew open, nearly breaking when they hit the floor.

Blinking rapidly, heart racing, she felt as if she were frozen on the step as she looked up to see the prince, wand held aloft, breathing raggedly as he looked at her. Minerva and Hermione stood behind him, blinking like owls. Lord Draco had his arms thrown out, holding back Aurora, Pansy and Millicent as they struggled to get into the room.

Slowly, as if in the trance, the prince lowered his wand. A smile ghosted his lips as he stepped forward, offering a hand to help her off of the steps.

"Your highness!" she suddenly remembered herself, collapsing against him as her knees buckled when she tried to bow.

Strong arms caught her, helping her to sit in a nearby chair. He knelt before her, that easy smile breaking his face. "Seems you've gotten yourself into more trouble."

Tears filling her eyes, she nodded. "Whenever the occasion arises."

Those green eyes were hypnotic as he reached into the pocket of his robes, retrieving a single glass slipper.

" _NOOOOO_!"

Pansy had broken free from Draco's grasp, rushing toward Harry. She shoved at him, snatching the slipper away and throwing it to the ground with all her might, the broken pieces scattering everywhere.

" _Relashio_!"

Ropes sprang forth from Draco's wand, wrapping tightly around Pansy, forcing her to her knees. But it was too late. The prince stared in horror at the shattered remains of the slipper. Tears sprang into Hermione's eyes as Minerva grasped her, shaking her head in denial.

The look of triumph on Aurora's face was downright sickening.

"No," Harry denied. "It's gone."

A sudden weight made itself known in the pocket of her robes. Reaching in, her heart skipped a beat as her fingers closed around the cold glass of the other slipper. Tonks. . .

Furious, Draco strode forward, hauling Pansy, her mother, and sister up the stairs.

She placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, gently squeezing. "My prince," she said quietly, ". . . I have the other."

His mouth dropped open, staring in wonder at the beautiful shoe. He took it between shaking hands, a brilliant smile lighting up his face.

It could have lit up the whole world, Ginevra thought as she gazed upon it, silent tears racing down her cheeks.

"I thought when I saw you fly away on that broom, that I had lost you forever," he gently pulled at her worn down shoes, his thumb stroking across the skin of her foot. "The day I met you, you were like nothing I've ever seen before. . . The night we shared has been burned into my brain- I've thought of little else since." The glass sparked in the light pouring through the windows as he put on the slipper, laughing quietly at the perfect fit. "And here you are," he said, grasping her hands. "I think I've loved you from the moment I clapped eyes on you . . . and I don't even know your name."

A watery laugh bubbled out of her. "It's Ginevra. Ginevra Weasley."

"Ginevra," he repeated in wonder. "I would break if I ever lost you again. I've waited all my life for someone like you. . . I kneel before you not as a prince, nor you as a servant, but as two people who have felt something magical and real. You have stolen my heart. . . Ginevra Weasley, you would make me the happiest man on earth if you would become my wife."

Her shoulders shaking with silent sobs, she nodding her head as she reached out to him, his lips crashing against hers in an urgent kiss.

Infectious laughter filled the room as he stood up, lifting her off her feet as he held her tightly against him.

"Hermione?"

Footsteps raced down the staircase, Ronald and Remus skidding to a halt at the bottom of the stairs, grasping her shoulder. "Hermione, what the devil is going on? Why are the mistresses being detained and why on earth is Lord Draco in the house?"

* * *

On the very day he proposed, Harry had made arrangements for Ginevra and her family to be moved into the castle. In a whirlwind they were swept away, given their very own wing and rooms in which to reside. On the second day, royal seamstresses paid them a visit, fitting them all with new clothes and robes. In the beginning, she'd struggled with the new world she had to accustom herself too, though the prince was very patient as he guided her through the rituals. Hermione had immediately sought out the library, setting out to learn and practice as many spells as she could with her newly given wand. Each and every day you would find her there, often with Ronald as company, piously watching her as she taught him wand work. Minerva had been released from her cooking duties, instead taking on a the job of governess, guiding the children of lords and ladies with a firm, gentle hand. Remus would often be found in his study, pouring over borrowed books from the library, hard at work on developing new king and queen had been called away to some business, promising the prince a quick return to meet his new bride.

When the royal guard had been sent to the chateau to arrest the baroness and her daughters for the crimes they'd committed, not to mention inquire about a small fortune of unpaid taxes, they had found it recently vacated. Harry put forth orders to have the home restored to it's final glory, finally righting all the wrongs that had come to pass. Eventually, once Ronald had found a wife, he would return to the home. Considering all the times Ginevra had found him with Hermione, whispering in dark corridors, she did not think a proposal was far behind.

Between preparations for the wedding, sneaking off with her prince to fly a racing broom in the dead of night, and meeting the Lords and Ladies of court, she could hardly believe that this was now her life. And through it all, as they learned more and more about each other, he fell deeper and deeper in love with her prince as each day passed. Never in her wildest dreams did she think herself deserving of such a kind and devoted man. A man that could in one instant irritate her so,0 and in the next have her laughing until her sides split. It was a truly wonderful new life, and deep down she knew her mother and father would approve.

The night before the king and queen were set to return, she received a most unexpected visit from a dear friend.

While the prince had to attend some duties, she had snuck away to the very tower her prince had taken her on that fateful night, feeling as if she could burst. _No one could be as happy as I am in this very moment_ , she thought, leaning both hands against the parapet as she gazed into the darkened sky.

"Tis a beautiful view on such a night," Tonks said beside her, casting her eyes up to the heavens.

"Tonks!" she gasped, throwing her arms around her godmother. "I thought I would never see you again!"

"It seems you are a rare case."

Ginevra frowned when she drew back to look at her. Nowhere to be seen were the beautiful iridescent wings or flowing gown. Though she smiled in earnest at her goddaughter, the soft glow was absent as well. She was instead dressed in a crushed green velvet gown, though her hair was still wild, this time a deep blue, like a sapphire. Still, she looked human rather than fairy.

"What happens to your wings? A -and your gown?"

"That's what I came to speak to you about." Her lips twitched. "I've been given a more permanent task. . . The powers that be were not pleased when they learned of my interference on a certain matter. Though they knew it was right, I had still shown myself to people I shouldn't have. So, instead of being stripped of my powers, a deal was struck. I keep my powers, in exchange for keeping a _very_ close eye on you."

Hands flew to Ginevra's mouth in a gasp. "You mean to tell me that you are here to stay?"

"If you wish it," Tonks answered, spreading her arms.

"Of course!" Ginevra wrapped her in another warm hug. "I've already brought an army with me, I don't think they will mind taking in one more!"

"And the prince?"

"The prince will be as accommodating as always if he wishes to remain in my good graces," Ginevra said in a teasing tone, grasping her hand to lead her down the stairs of the tower. "Though I think he might have to grow accustomed to your hair."

"I think it will be easier a transition than you think," Tonks answered with a secret smile.

The next morning the king and queen returned. Harry and Lord Draco had met with them, leaving Ginevra and her family to make themselves presentable. As soon as the king and queen were settled in their chamber, Harry retrieved her alone from her chambers, doing his best to soothe her nerves on the journey to meet his parents.

"Scores of fabric and yet I feel naked," Ginevra said quietly, stalling him as they stood before the vast doors.

He gently tipped up her chin, silently waiting for the raise of her lashes. Green eyes met brown, a fond smile exchanged between the two. He chastely brushed his lips across her own, touching his forehead down against hers. "You look beautiful, and they will love you."

"As you love me?" she asked.

"I do not think anyone could love you as much as I do," his hand stroked her cheek. "And I will spend each day showing you how much for the rest of our lives."

Many years later, when she thought back to the grand wedding, how handsome he'd looked the end of the aisle, the way Tonks had clutched onto a blushing Remus; how happy her brother and best friend looked for both her and with each other, she would have the full knowledge that each day he'd kept his promise.

 **The End**

* * *

 **Author's Note** : And that's it, though I must admit I'm sad that it's over, I'm happy with the way it turned out.

For any questions that come up, I've looked up the properties and history of Polyjuice Potion and could not find when it was made, so I decided not to include it into the dialogue between Harry and Draco. Besides, the ingredients are hard enough to come by, not mention who would have time to worry about making Polyjuice Potion when there are gowns to be bought? Also, I could not help myself when it came to Remus and Tonks. In the end I will always support canon couples, at least for the most part. Long live Neville/Luna!

 **And as always, thank you all for reading** **:)**


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